


everything with you

by nevergonnacallmedarling (superbestfriendsandsoulmates)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: (not between simon and baz), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Normal AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbestfriendsandsoulmates/pseuds/nevergonnacallmedarling
Summary: Simon and Baz are friends with benefits. (Well, maybefriendsis a strong word.) (They’re more likehousemates who are more frendly than they used to be and also have sex sometimes.) They both claim there’s no feelings involved, but the line between casual sex andsomething morekeeps getting thinner.
Relationships: Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Lamb/Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Simon Snow/Philippa Stainton, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 40
Kudos: 176





	1. maybe friends is a strong word

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda ridiculous, and dramatic, and i've read it so many times i don't even know if it makes sense anymore 😂 but this is my baby and i think it's funny so i hope you do have fun with it 💘

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _morning blowjobs, a severe case of unresolved sexual tension, promised breakfasts, and where the hell is dev? so much for not seeming desperate, basilton._

* * *

**Baz**

Simon Snow might not be good with words, but his mouth is capable of many, many wonders.

He always does this; he wakes up ridiculously early and gets into my room (and my bed), waking me up hours before I need to. I want to be angry with him (I hate getting up early); but it's very difficult to stay annoyed when he has my dick on his mouth.

"Fuck; _Simon,_ I'm gonna come," I warn him.

Suddenly his warmth isn't surrounding me anymore, and I let go a frustrated whine at the loss (it's embarrassing). "That's the whole point, you know."

He's smirking at me, the little shit. His hand is still wrapped at my base, but he's not moving it.

God, I hate him so much.

"Shut up, don't stop," I complain, sounding more desperate than I'd like to. I grab him by the hair and practically force his mouth on me again. ( _So much for not seeming desperate, Basilton._ )

I should tell him to stop waking me up for a quickie before class; I really hate being awakened before I absolutely need to. I should lock my door at night so he won't be able to get in in the morning; it's not like I haven't considered it. But I never do it because, well, _morning blowjobs_ , you know.

He's so fucking good at this. He's letting me fuck his mouth now; my hand still on his hair, moving him however I want. It's absolute bliss.

When he starts moaning around me I know I'm done for.

(***)

Once I’ve returned the favour, he leaves to the bathroom almost immediately. We never cuddle after sex; that would be weird, wouldn’t it? We’re just friends after all. (Well, maybe _friends_ is a strong word.) (We’re more like _housemates who are more frendly than they used to be and also have sex sometimes_.)

We were definitely not friendly when we first met, that’s for sure. We used to argue all the time; it drove the rest of our housemates crazy. It took us until the start of second year to realise it was all due to a very severe case of unresolved sexual tension. (He was all I could think about last summer.) (I don’t think I’ve ever wanked that much in my life.)

“Are you asleep again?” asks Snow, half opening the door.

“Yes,” I say, practically growling.

“Don’t be all grumpy,” he says. “C’mon, get up; I’ll make you breakfast.”

I look at him, and he’s standing there, only wearing a pair of sweatpants, with his hair a mess, his face still beautifully flushed. He’s smiling softly at me; too softly for my own good, and not for the first time I think of how fucking screwed I am.

“Always the gentleman,” I say, sarcastically; because I really need to ruin this somewhat civil moment between us, before I do something stupid. (Like telling him he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, for example.)

He simply rolls his eyes and leaves. 

**Simon**

I make him breakfast anyway, even if he’s being a dickhead about it. (I don’t get why he gets so annoyed.) (I waked him up _with a blowjob_ , for fuck’s sake. It's not like I was murdering his family or something.) (He should be grateful, the twat.)

Sometimes I wonder how the hell did we end up having a kind of _friends with benefits_ relationship. Half the time he doesn’t seem to like me enough to be my _friend_ , let alone to have sex with me. (And it’s not like he doesn’t have other options; there’s a different guy in his bed every other day.) (There’s someone different in my bed every other day too, to be honest.)

He must like me enough though; he would have told me to fuck off a long time ago otherwise.

We used to fight all the time, when we met last year. It was the first year at university for both of us, and we ended up randomly placed together in a household on campus with five other first years. Can you imagine, seven eighteen-year-olds living together their first year of uni; it was a fucking mess. (It still is, honestly.)

We used to argue about everything; he would be mad at me for leaving my things everywhere, and I would complain about him taking too long on the shower. We argued about whose turn it was to clean the kitchen, and he would accuse me of eating his food without asking him first. (“ _Of course I didn’t ask; you would’ve said no._ ”) (” _That’s not the point, Snow.”_ )

It wasn’t until a couple of months ago, first day of second year, actually; that I realised what was actually happening. I saw him after all summer break without knowing anything about him and I got it in one second; it wasn’t to punch him what I wanted to do - well, maybe I did want to punch him, a little bit. But not more than I wanted to fuck him senseless.

We were already having one of our habitual arguments about who knows what, not even five minutes after being in the same space again; only this time it ended up with us making out in the kitchen like our life depended on it.

Penny, always so timely, decided to go in the kitchen in that precise moment, catching us in the middle of it; me sitting on the counter, Baz standing between my legs. 

“ _Well, it makes sense, I guess,"_ was all she said before turning around and leaving.

We had sex that very same day (not in the kitchen, obviously) and we haven’t been able to stop since then. 

(I mean, I’m not complaining; the sex is good.) (Very good.) ( _Ridiculously good._ )

“Is Baz awake?” asks Niall, already sitting at the kitchen table, toast in hand. 

“Yeah, he should be,” I reply.

As on cue, he enters the room, still in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes like a five year old. (It’s cute.)

“Speak of the devil…” I whisper to myself.

“Where is my promised breakfast?” he says, sitting next to Niall. 

“You make each other breakfast now?” says Niall, grinning. “How romantic.”

“Shut up,” I say, placing Baz’s plate and coffee in front of him, then sitting myself in front of Niall.

Everyone in this house knows we’re having sex. (Even Gareth knows; and he never has a clue about anything that’s happening.) According to Penny it was impossible to live here and not find out. (“ _It’s a small household, Simon,_ ” she said. “ _And it’s not like either of you is being subtle. Or quite._ ”) They love to tease us about it; we’re used to it by now though, so we barely get embarrassed anymore.

(“ _Of course the two_ fuckboys _of the house ended up hooking up with each other; it was very predictable, if you think about it,_ ” said Keris when she saw us making out at a house party.) (She had a point, to be honest.)

“Have you heard from Dev?” asks Niall to Baz. “He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago; we’ll be late if he doesn’t show up in the next two minutes.”

"No, I haven’t,” Baz answers. “He’s your boyfriend, not mine.”

“He’s also your cousin, dickhead.”

“He probably went to some party last night and now he’s hungover,” says Baz, seeming now more awake after drinking almost all of his coffee in one go.

“He got drunk on a Tuesday night?” I say, probably too judgemental. (Definitely _too_ judgemental, considering it's not past me to drink on a school night.)

“As if Dev would care about that,” Baz points out.

“He didn’t,” says Niall.“ He would have told me.”

I don’t say anything else; Dev is still a little bit of a sore spot for me. He hooked up with Agatha before he got with Niall and while she and I were still together. And, well, he knows I know, so. Things are still a little bit awkward between us.

(I should be over it, it’s not like I’m still hung up on Aggie or something. We’re friends now.) (And if I had to be awkward around everyone who slept with her while she was still my girlfriend I couldn’t talk to half Watford.)

(That’s not fair; I cheated on her a million times too.) (I’m not proud of it.)

“Niall!” screams Micah from the hallway. “Dev’s here!”

“Thank God,” says Niall, standing up. “Bye, losers.”

“Bye, prick.” I say. Baz simply glares at him.


	2. that's actually not a crazy assumption to make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _awkward encounters, unicorn drinks, baz in a suit (the posh twat), and rip penny's quiet evening. after seeing your nemesis naked a million times you get used to their presence._

**Simon**

“Well, that was awkward as hell,” I say, breaking the silence.

Penny and I have a shift together at _Miss Possibelf's,_ the coffee shop we both work part time at, and Micah just showed up with his new girlfriend. While Shepard (Penny’s new boyfriend) was also here. So I think it’s safe to say things were pretty tense.

“Why does he keep coming back? It’s not like this is the only coffee shop nearby campus!” complains Penny.

“He likes the coffee here,” I say, explaining what he told me yesterday (during my shift without Penny) when I asked him that very same question. “He doesn’t want to give it up.”

“Well, he should’ve thought about it before dumping me for that Ellen girl.”

“Erin,” Agatha says, sitting on a table, drinking her coffee and painting her nails; she couldn’t be less interested in this drama.

“What?” asks Penny.

“Erin,” Aggie says again. “That’s her name, not Ellen. She’s in a few of my classes.”

“I don’t care what her name is!” 

“Babe, calm down,” says Shep. “It’s his loss. And my win.” 

At least that makes her smile.

“It’s just that - _ugh,_ ” starts Penny again. “Things are awkward enough as they are, with us having to live together. He doesn’t need to make me uncomfortable also in my work space.”

Well, she's right about that. Things have been weird as hell.

Micah and Penny dated all through first year, but he broke up with her a week before summer break was over. (Through text; because he was still in America with his family.) To say things have been awkward at home is the understatement of the century. As if it wasn’t enough with me and Baz arguing all the time, Penny complaining Trixie (Keris’ girlfriend) is always there, me being weird with Dev when he comes with Niall, and Gareth being… well, in the middle of it all. Now add to the mix Penny and Micah’s break up. (We’re slowly going crazy.)

“You need to figure things out,” I say, almost begging. “Just talk to each other and make things civil again.”

They really need to get their shit together; I’m tired of having to keep choosing between them. (Well, I'll always choose Penny, of course; she’s my best friend in the whole world.) (But Micah is also my friend, and I don’t think it’s fair of me to completely abandon him just because they aren’t together anymore.)

“I have nothing to say to him,” says Penny, always the stubborn.

“Don’t be stubborn, Penny,” says Agatha, reading my mind. “If Simon and I can still be friends after all, I think you can handle a conversation with Micah.”

Well, she has a point. We had a very messy break up. We dated on and off through secondary school, until we came to university and discovered that 1. We were pretty dull together, 2. We were both bisexual and 3. We had plenty of other options here. (Not that any of that excuses the bad decisions we kept on making; that’s entirely on us being terrible at relationships.)

We kept cheating on each other for a couple of months until Penny forced us to talk about it and we ended things on mutual agreement. If there’s something we’ve realised since then is how much better we work as friends than we ever did as a couple. (We were never in love - not really. We loved - and still love - each other, sure; but that's not the same as being _in love_.)

She's the only serious relationship I've ever had. Since we broke up it's all been _Tinder_ dates and meaningless one night stands. (Except for Baz.) (I mean, he wasn't a _Tinder_ date.) (Nor a one night stand.) (But _it is_ meaningless, of course.)

The doorbell rings again, and I see Penny flinching out of habit (despite Micah having left not ten minutes ago; it’s very improbable he’ll be here again this soon), but it’s just Baz this time.

He’s also a regular, and _I_ was the one flinching every time he showed up last year. I don’t anymore; after seeing your nemesis naked a million times you get used to their presence, I guess.

“Hi, Baz!” says Penny. “The usual?”

“Yes, Bunce; thank you,” says Baz, as polite as ever. He’s lovely with everyone except me. (Well, he’s also lovely with me sometimes.) (But we’re usually wearing far less clothes than we do now.)

“I’ll do it,” I say, grabbing a paper cup form under the counter.

His _usual_ is a disgusting thing called _The Unicorn_ that’s definitely more sugar than coffee. He’s the only one who ever orders it. (Technically it’s not even on the menu anymore; we do it especially for him.) (Well, _I_ do it especially for him. Penny’s so offended by it she doesn't even want to make it.)

“Here you have,” I say, once it’s done, placing it on the counter.

I’ve written _Tyrannosaurus_ on the cup, just to fuck with him a little. He hates it when I make fun of his totally ridiculous first name, but he doesn’t even mention it this time. (I think he hasn’t noticed yet.)

“Well, Snow,” he says, after taking a sip. “Glad to see you’re not completely useless,” that’s his way of telling me he likes it, I guess.

 _You seemed to find me very useful this morning_ I want to say, but I shut up at the last moment. (I opt for simply smiling falsely at him.)

He’s wearing a suit, so he must’ve come straight from class. He always wears a suit to class, the posh twat; I don’t see the point, but every law student wears one, so it must be the dress code or something. He’s always telling me I dress horrifically, the dickhead. (“ _You’ll be a social worker one day, Snow, try to look more professional, for fuck’s sake._ ”) (I don’t think he’s seen a lot of social workers in his life.) (Of course he hasn’t, why would he?) (Sometimes I forget not everyone grew up in care homes and foster families.)

“Any plans for tonight, Basil?” Asks Agatha, still sitting on the same spot, now waiting for her nails to dry.

“Yes, actually,” he answers. “I have a date.”

“Me too,” I say, even if no one has asked me.

“Oh, so that means zero chance of a quiet evening; love that for me,” says Penny. Her room is tragically placed between Baz’s and mine; the rest of the rooms are upstairs.

“We could also be loud, babe,” says Shep, raising his eyebrows in what I assume it’s meant to be a suggestive way.

“Gross,” say the rest of us at the same time. (Even Aggie, who won’t even be there.)

“We’ll try to be quiet,” I quickly add, after Penny almost killed us all with one of her murderous looks. “Right, Baz?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, but he’s not really paying attention, he’s looking at his phone. “Well, this has been a pleasant conversation, but I have to go.”

“Have fun!” says Agatha.

“Thank you, Wellbelove,” he says, before stepping out of the door. “I will certainly have fun.”

“What a dickhead,” I say, once he’s left.

“When you both said you had a date tonight, for one second I thought you meant you had a date _together_ ,” says Shepard, and I almost choke on my own spit.

“Why would we have a date _together_?” that’s probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day.

The three of them look at me, but no one says anything. “What?”

“That’s actually not a crazy assumption to make, Si,” says Agatha.

“Aggie, it’s insane. We drive each other mad. It would be a disaster.”

“Driving each other mad hasn’t stopped either of you from having sex together, though,” points out Penny. 

(I don’t tell them I think that’s precisely _why_ the sex is so good.)

“It's not the same,” I conclude.

I see they all want to keep going with this conversation, but a random group of girls comes in and suddenly Penny and I are busy again.

(Thank God; I didn’t want to keep talking about that.) (Can you imagine? Baz and I on a date.) (Ridiculous.)

(Completely bonkers.)


	3. this morning can't possibly get more odd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _inappropriate flirting, simon in a towel, lamb (what a stupid name) making coffee for everyone and poor sweet (fucking) gareth. i can and i will, thank you very much._

**Baz**

I wake up alone in my bed, despite having slept with Lamb last night. (Both in the literal sense and in the _we had sex_ sense.)

I look at the clock on my phone, 9:30am. Too early to be awake on a Saturday (at least for me it is.) I see I have no texts from Lamb, and I wonder if he’s left without saying anything. _Weird_. I mean, it’s not like I know him that well, but he doesn’t seem like the type. The date went great and the sex was satisfactory; I don’t think he has any reasons to flee without even a goodbye. 

So where is he? _Did I do something wrong?_

I still think it’s too early, but I can’t go back to sleep thinking about it, so I get up.

Someone is having a shower, so I go straight to the kitchen. (I could go to the bathroom upstairs, but all my products are in the one down here, so I pass.) I really need coffee if I’m going to be awake before 10am on a Saturday.

When I get in, I see Lamb, with his back to me, apparently making coffee himself. (God bless him.) _So here is where you were._

There’s also a girl I haven’t seen in my life sitting on the kitchen table, talking to him. For one second I wonder _who the hell is she?_

Then I remember Snow also had a date last night; that must be her. _That_ is proper weird. When he brings people home, they never spend the night. This might actually be the first time I’ve seen one of Snow’s hook ups the morning after. Maybe there’s something more between them this time, I don’t know.

(I try to avoid the ache in my chest at the thought of that.)

“Good morning,” I say, interrupting whatever she was saying.

“Oh, good morning,” says Lamb, turning around. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” it’s like this is his house instead of mine, but I’m still not awake enough to be embarrassed about it.

I sit in front of her, and that seems to give her the impression I’m up for conversation. “Hi! I’m Philippa, nice to meet you.”

“Baz,” I simply say; I don’t even look at her. (I don’t know why I’m being such an ass, she seems perfectly nice.) (That’s a lie, I _know_ why I’m being an ass.) (I just don’t want to think about it.)

Lamb gives me my coffee and I can feel my mood improving after the first sip. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” says Philippa once Lamb has placed her mug in front of her. _Sweetheart_? Is _Snow’s_ date flirting with _my_ date in front of my face?

“You’re welcome, love,” _love_? what is he doing leading her on? last time I checked he was gay.

 _This morning can’t possibly get more odd_ I think.

Until Simon appears wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist and proves me wrong.

**Simon**

I don't quite understand what I find in the kitchen.

Is Philippa having breakfast with _Baz_ and what I assume is _Baz's_ last night's date?

When I woke up alone in bed I assumed she had (finally) taken the hint and gone home; that's why I was showering without any care in the world.

I never spend the night with the people I randomly hook up with; if I'm at their place I just say goodbye and leave, and if we're in mine usually people don't want to sleep ( _literally_ sleep) cramped up in a single bed with practically a stranger, so they end up leaving as well. 

(We all have single beds here - that's why Penny usually spends the night at Shep's, and not the other way around - except for Baz, who has a double.) (For the longest time I didn't get how he got away with it, you're not supposed to change the furniture of the household.) (" _I'm a Pitch, Snow; I have many, many contacts.")_ (I thought he was taking the piss, but then Agatha told me her mother used to be headmistress of Watford University before she passed away.) (And then I understood everything.) ( _Fucking nepotism._ )

I didn't really want to bring her to mine (knowing that Baz would probably be here with his date), but she apparently shares a room with another girl, so her place wasn't an option; that's why we ended up here.

I tried to subtibly tell her to leave after we've had sex, but she wasn’t getting it. And I didn’t wanna be _that guy_ who harshly tells you to fuck off, so she stayed at last.

" _Emm,_ good morning?" I say, coming out as a question, sounding like an idiot.

"Good morning," says the guy I don't know ( _Baz's date_.) "I made coffee, do you want some?"

" _Emm,_ yes?" _Oh my God, can I stop saying things as if I'm asking them?_

It's not until I'm sitting next to Baz (and in front of his date, Philippa beside him), mug in hand, that I remember I'm still almost naked. I really should've put something on before sitting with them, but I guess it's too late now.

**Baz**

_What the hell is he doing sitting here wearing nothing but a towel?! What the hell is wrong with him?!_

**Simon**

Is Philippa really flirting a bit with Baz's guy in front of me or am I going crazy?

Not that I care, but _what the hell?_

"So, _em, who_ are you?" I ask him, awkwardly interrupting their conversation.

"Oh, sorry," he says. "My name is Lamb."

 _(Lamb._ What a stupid name.)

"I'm Simon," I say, even if he hasn't asked. "I'm Baz's housemate," _as if that wasn't obvious._

"I think that was obvious, Snow," points out Baz, because he can't pass on the opportunity of humiliating me in front of people ( _d_ _ickhead_.)

"How many housemates do you guys have?" asks Philippa. "This place seems huge!"

It really isn't huge, not for the amount of people who live here. "Six; eight with us two."

"That's so cool! It must be so fun."

"I don't know if fun is the word," says Baz. "But we don't get bored, that's for sure," he says it like it's a bad thing.

"I couldn't live with that many people," says Lamb. "Thank God I have my own flat."

 _Then what the fuck are you doing here if you and Baz could just have gone to your place?_ I want to ask, but I refrain somehow.

"I didn't know you live alone," says Baz, probably thinking the same thing as me.

"Yeah, it was my graduation gift from my parents when I got my degree a few years ago."

He says it so casually, as if it was totally normal to be gifted a fucking flat at the age of twenty something. (God, I hate him.) (I know I don't know him enough to hate him, but I just do.) (I don't know what Baz sees in him.) (Not even Baz is _that_ posh.)

( _"You can't hate people just because they've had it easier than you in life, Simon. That's not fair, it's not their fault,"_ would say Penny.) (Well, I can and I _will, thank_ you very much.)

**Baz**

When I, once again, thought that this situation couldn't get weirder (friendly reminder: Snow is still _fucking half naked_ ), life proves me wrong once more with Gareth's appearance, who's acting like me awake before noon on a Saturday, Simon straight out of the shower, and two people he has never met was exactly what he was expecting to find in his kitchen.

"Good morning everyone," he says, as cheerful (and clueless) as always.

Poor, sweet (fucking) Gareth.

He has the audacity to sit with us, making things even more awkward. He unpromptedly starts telling us a supposedly funny story involving Rhys (his boyfriend), three cute but mildly violent ducks and a trip to the hospital. (Or something like that, I wasn't really paying attention.)

Keris also comes in at one point, but she actually has the ability of, you know, _reading the room,_ so she quickly makes her coffee and leaves. 

"Well, I should get going," says Lamb, looking at his phone. _Finally._

"Yeah, I better leave too," says Philippa, and I see from the corner of my eye how Snow looks kind of relieved at the prospect. (So there's actually nothing more between them, it seems.)

**Simon**

For fuck's sake, I thought this moment would never come.

"I'll text you, okay?" says Lamb to Baz, and I try not to break the mug in my hands when he smiles and agrees.

(I'm half expecting Philippa to say she'll text me too, or ask me to text her; but she doesn't, thank God.)

Once they're out of the door, I can't help but start laughing hysterically.

**Baz**

Snow is laughing like a maniac, and I do something very out of character: I start laughing too.

" _Emm,_ are you guys okay?" asks Gareth, _now_ looking uncomfortable, but we ignore him.

"That was so fucking weird," says Snow, actually crying from laughter. "They were flirting a little bit, weren't they?"

"I think so," I answer.

"Fucking weird," he repeats. "And are you meeting with him again anyways?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" speaks Gareth again, but we still ignore him.

"He didn't mean it, he's gay."

"Are you sure? He could be bi."

"I know he could be bi," I say, probably too harshly (he's not laughing anymore). "But I distinctly remember him telling me he's gay. So yes, I'm sure. He’s just like this; he flirts with everyone. And she seemed to be the same, so."

"Okay, Jesus; no need to be a dickhead about it."

"You're so strange," says Gareth, finally giving up and leaving.

"I should probably get dressed," says Snow, remembering now that he's still _just in a fucking towel._

"Yeah, Snow; you should."

" _Or,"_ he starts, giving me that smirk of his that I know damn well what it means by now. (It means _trouble_.) "We could get naked together. In your room, I mean; not in the hallway."

"Yeah, I gathered that, somehow," I roll my eyes, trying to sound unaffected.

I must not do a very good job, because he starts walking to my room confidently, as if I had explicitly agreed.

(I go after him, in the end. Because I'm weak.)

(Always weak for him.)


	4. there's no way my knees will touch this floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _mummer’s the pub, a very needed intervention, is he flirting with me or just being mean? and public bathroom sex. i'm sorry my pathetic unrequited love is inconvenient to you._

**Simon**

Every Saturday night (and some Fridays) I work as a bartender at _Mummer’s_ , a pub close to campus. Penny says I overwork myself, getting a degree while having two jobs; but I don’t really mind. I like to stay busy. Besides, I need the money. (I’m on a scholarship, of course; I wouldn’t be able to afford to attend a university like Watford otherwise.) (Not everyone has loaded parents who buy them flats.) ( _Fucking Lamb_.) 

( _Not everyone has parents_ , full stop.)

She should be grateful I got the job, actually; that’s how she met Shep. (He works here on weekends too.)

It’s not that bad, really; it’s actually kind of fun. You have to put up with drunk people, sure; but I get free drinks after my shift is over, so it’s worth it. The owner is a strange man named Davy Mage (there’s no way that’s his real name, but everyone goes along with it), he’s a little bit insufferable, truth be told; but he’s drunk half the time he’s here, and he’s nicer after a couple of drinks.

Is a pretty university student oriented kind of pub (cheap drinks, pop music, dim lights), so there’s always people my age around here. 

Like Baz and his friends, for example. 

They’re here pretty much every Saturday. I was surprised the first time I saw them; it doesn’t seem to be their kind of environment, to be honest. (My idea of Baz and his kind of people fit more on a fancy pub, drinking over expensive sweet cocktails and listening to jazz music.)

In fact, Shep told me he had never seen him on _Mummer’s_ until I started working here. He says he clearly comes only to see me, but that’s even more absurd than Baz being here without any ulterior motive.

Why would he come here to see _me_? We see each other everyday at home!

It doesn’t make any sense.

**Baz**

“We need to stop coming here just so you can creepily stare at Snow,” says Niall. “You literally live with the guy! You see him everyday.”

“I don’t come here _to creepily stare at Snow_ ; that’s ridiculous.”

Of course I come here just to see Snow; why on earth would I set foot in this truly horrific place if not?

(Not that I’m going to admit it, of course.)

“Let it go, Niall,” says Dev. “He’ll never admit he has feelings for him.”

“Of course I don’t have feelings for him.”

(I _obviously_ have feelings for him.)

“That sounds like he has feelings for him,” fake whispers Niall on Dev’s ear; he clearly intended for me to hear (I ignore them.)

“Look,” says Dev, when it becomes obvious I won’t say anything else. “We know you’re in love with him; you can quit this whole facade nonsense you have build.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 _Of course_ I know I’m pathetically in love with him; I don’t need them to constantly remind me, for fuck’s sake. I’m miserable enough as it is.

“What we meant to say,” interjecs Niall. “Is that you two shouldn’t keep having casual sex if you’re in love with him.”

_Do they think I don’t know that?!_

“Fucking hell; can’t I have sex with whoever I want now?” I say, probably too loud (the girls on the table next to us sends us funny looks.)

“Okay, man, chill out,” says Niall. “We don’t want you to get hurt again, that’s all.”

I sigh, loudly. _Dramatically._

The only real relationship I've ever had was in secondary school and he broke my heart when he ended it right before going to different universities. He didn't want to do the whole long distance relationship thing; which I get, it's not ideal, but I thought he cared enough about me to at least _try._

(He didn't, apparently.)

After all summer break moping and being miserable I promised to myself I wouldn't get in another serious relationship any time soon; that once I started uni I would date around and have meaningless flings and have _fun._

And, I mean, _it is fun,_ don't get me wrong; but nothing of this comes natural to me. I'm not intrinsically a casual (or _fuckboy_ , as I'm often referred as) kind of guy; but Simon is. He couldn't hold a monogamous relationship for more than a week to save his life. (He tried with Wellbelove, and we all know how that went.)

That's the difference between us: Simon has one night stands because he usually gets bored of people after one night; I have one night stands because I run the risk of catching feelings if I meet with someone more than thrice.

And that's literally what happened with Snow; I had sex with him three times and next thing I know I'm hopelessly in love with him. (Because I'm a constant disappointment to myself.)

 _I know_ I should stop having sex with him. I know it's doing me no good. But I can't; I literally can't bring myself to put an end to it. 

I'd rather have him in my life, whatever way he wants me, than lose what we have right now. Even if it kind of hurts. 

"What is this, an intervention?" I ask, annoyed.

" _It is_ an intervention," says Dev. "A very needed one."

"I don't need a fucking intervention," I insist. 

"It's okay, Dev; let it go." 

"Fine," he finally seems to give up. "Just- get over him, okay? It would be very awkward for me if you two started seriously dating."

"Why the fuck would it be awkward for you?" I ask; trust Dev to make everything about himself.

"Because I fucked his ex girlfriend when he wasn't his _ex_ girlfriend yet," he says. "And he knows, and I know he knows, and he's always so awkward around me. If he becomes your boyfriend I'll have to see him even more, and I'd like to avoid that, thank you very much."

 _I'm sorry my pathetic unrequited love is inconvenient to you, you fucking dick._ "He won't ever be my boyfriend," I say instead.

"I thought the whole Agatha thing was behind everyone by now," says Niall, looking more serious all of a sudden.

" _Aw,_ babe; are you jealous?" says Dev, getting so close to Niall he's practically sitting in his lap. (God, I hate when they call the sofa; they always end up like this.)

"Shut up, you twat," he says, without any malice (almost endearingly I'd say.)

When they start lowkey making out I know it's my cue to leave. "Okay, I'm going to get another drink."

I don't ask if they want something; they'll have their mouths occupied for quite some time.

**Simon**

I see Baz approaching the bar and, as on cue, the glass I had in my hand decides to smash itself on the floor.

Fucking hell.

“How the fuck do you manage to hold two jobs as a _bartender_?” says Baz, now in front of the bar, trying not to touch anything. “You’re always dropping things.”

“Shut up,” I say (my face probably pink), cleaning the mess I just made. “I only drop things in front of you.”

“Oh, and why is that?” he asks, and I now realise what I’ve just said. “Do I make you nervous, Snow?” 

“S-Shut up!”

**Baz**

It’s so easy to rile him up; it’s the funniest thing. How on earth does he manage to get into so many people’s pants?

(How am I supposed to give this up?)

**Simon**

He does make me nervous, for whatever reason. Nobody has ever made me this nervous in my life. (I never know if he’s flirting with me or just being mean.)

But I’m not going to admit that to him, so I change the subject. “Have you come here just to make fun of me or do you want something?”

“I’d like a Raspberry Cosmopolitan, please,” he says, suddenly sounding so polite. “But only if you’re able to make it properly; if you’re going to make a disaster then I’ll pass,” _nevermind_.

“Of course I know how to make a fucking Raspberry Cosmopolitan,” I say, even though I’m not sure if I really know how to make it. He’s the only one who ever orders the few posh drinks we have on the menu (and he usually sticks to a glass of wine.) “Trust you to order the sweetest thing in here, I swear.”

**Baz**

_You’re the sweetest thing in here, Snow_. I want to say. (But I don’t.)

**Simon**

“Here you have,” I say, placing the glass in front of him. “Your posh drink I obviously knew how to make.”

“I saw you asking Shepard how to make it, Snow,” he says, and then takes a sip. _Shit_. I thought he hadn’t seen me.

“I didn’t do such thing,” he rolls his eyes, obviously not believing me. “So, is it good?”

“Yeah, Snow; it’s edible,” he says. _I’ll take what I can get. “Well_ , this was entertaining; but I’m going to go now.”

“Wait!” I shout, him already a few steps away. “You haven’t paid me!”

“Oh, I think I’ll find better ways to pay you later, Snow,” he says, raising just one eyebrow the way he always does. “Just be patient.”

And he leaves, just like that. He can’t say those things and then just leave!

I spend the rest of my shift trying not to think about that. ( _About him._ )

_Fucking Baz._

**Baz**

Simon’s enthusiastically talking to a guy while I try not to drown in jealousy. (Or in alcohol.)

(I know I’ve lost the battle when they start vigorously making out.)

His shift is over around 1am, and instead of going home like any normal person would, he usually stays, snatches a free drink, and flirts with anyone who’s willing to. 

(Most nights it’s me; if I stay until the end of his shift. Not tonight, apparently.)

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” asks - Harry? Henry? I’ve forgotten his name already. He’s been talking to me since Niall and Dev left and I think I haven’t processed anything he’s said since Snow ended his shift.

"Yeah, sorry," I say, not taking my eyes off Simon. "I'm just distracted."

“Does your distraction have curly hair and broad shoulders?” He asks, grabbing my chin with two fingers and moving my head so I’m looking at him.

I don’t know why I’m taken aback by his comment; it’s not like I was being subtil.

“Yeah, sorry,” I repeat, dumbly. (There’s no point in denying it.)

“Is he your boyfriend or something?” 

“No,” I quickly say. “He would be a pretty shit boyfriend if he was kissing someone else in front of me.”

He laughs. “Well, yeah. But you’re clearly bothered by it.”

“Yes, I am,” I admit. “But that’s because I’m an idiot. I have no right to be bothered.”

“He’s the idiot, in my opinion,” he says. “He could be kissing you and is kissing someone else instead. Just an idiot would make that decision.”

“He is an idiot. There’s no denying that.”

“I could distract you from him, if you want,” he says, now the fingers that were in my chin moving to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Even if it’s just for tonight.”

I should do it. I should say yes and bring him home and close my eyes and forget about Simon for a while.

But then I look at Snow again, and he’s looking at me now too, even if he’s still kissing that guy. He’s looking at me so intensely, almost hungrily. And just by that look I know there’s no point in sleeping with anyone else tonight. I would be thinking about him anyways.

I probably should say yes anyway; even if it’s just to remind Snow that he’s not my only option, that I could have anyone that I wanted. (Even if he’s the only one I really want.)

I should say yes.

But I say no.

(***)

I go to the bathroom before going home. 

Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought. I tripped with nothing and I almost fell over on my way here (thank God no one saw me; I don’t need more humiliation for tonight) and then I spent almost three minutes locked up in the stall because I couldn’t open the door to save my life. (There’s no way I’d pee in one of those urinals out there; I might be drunk but I’m not _that_ wasted.)

I’m washing my hands thinking if I should call an Uber or just walk home when someone wraps his hands around my middle from behind.

“Jesus Christ, Snow,” I say, seeing his reflection in the mirror. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“ _Mhmm,_ ” he murmurs, kissing my neck sloppily. He’s clearly drunk too. “I think you own me something.”

“Do I?” I ask, while he manhandles me until we’re face to face. (I hate how hot I find it.)

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you do.”

He kisses me against the counter, his hands firmly grabbing my waist, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear any second. ( _As if._ ) I don’t think he’s ever kissed me like this before; this desperate, like his life depended on it, even.

I don’t know what’s gotten into him.

**Simon**

I don’t know what’s gotten into me.

I don’t think I’ve kissed Baz like this before. ( _I don’t think I’ve kissed anyone like this before._ )

I wanted to approach him once my shift was over, but I saw he was already talking to some other guy. And I felt something ugly; my chest was kind of burning, and I almost smashed the glass I had in my hand again, this time on purpose. (I swear I’m not a violent guy.) (But I had anger issues as a kid; I thought I had it under control. Maybe not as much as I believed.) (I should probably see my therapist again.)

I have no idea what that feeling was, or where it came from; but I didn’t like it. I tried to get rid of it by drowning drink after drink and enthusiastically making out with the first person who showed any interest in me, but it didn’t work. 

This is working though. Making out with Baz, I mean. This feels great. (This feels _right._ )

“What about your guy?” he asks against my mouth.

“Who?”

"The guy you were making out with not even ten minutes ago," he says it as if I’m the stupidest person to ever walk on this earth.

"Oh, he's no one,” I say. He really isn’t; I don’t even remember his name. “He's not my guy. _You're_ my guy."

I don’t know what I mean by that.

**Baz**

I don’t know what he means by that, but before I can ask, he takes my hand and drags me to the very same stall I almost locked myself into before.

He presses his back to the wall and takes me with him, pining himself there with my body. I’ve barely closed the door when he’s already unbuttoning my shirt. (Or trying to; he’s being specially clumsy tonight.)

“Eager, aren’t you?” I ask, teasing him; but he makes me whimper once he has my shirt open enough to put his mouth on my collarbone, so it doesn’t land the way I wanted to. “We could go home, you know. We’re literally housemates.”

“No,” he says it like I’ve just insulted his entire existence. “I can’t wait that long. I want you _now._ ”

The way he says that; a chill runs through my spine. Oh, who am I to deny him anything; if he wants to have sex in a stinky public bathroom, so be it.

"There's no way my knees will touch this floor,” I was thinking of giving him a blowjob, but I thought better of it once I saw the state of the ground. “A handjob will have to do."

He snorts at that. "Okay, fair enough."

I undo his belt and unzip his trousers with a little bit of difficulty ( _I_ _really am drunk_ ) but soon enough I shove my hand down his pants, not wasting any time.

“God, you’re so hard already,” I say, starting to move my wrist as best as I can, given the restrictions. 

“ _Mhmm_ , you make me so hard,” he says, impatiently pulling his pants down so I can get a better grip of him.

He’s gonna be the death of me.

**Simon**

Baz’s gonna be the death of me.

He spits on his hand so the friction is not so dry; he’s making that weird wrist movement of his that I love so much, and I know that I’m being too loud considering we’re in the public restroom of a pub I work at, but I can’t help it.

(I know this is a very stupid thing to do; we don’t live far from here and if Mr.Mage caught us he would fire me on the spot.) (But I couldn’t wait any longer, I wanted him _immediately._ )

He’s kissing my neck like it’s the only goal in his life, and I’m sure he’s leaving love bites everywhere (he’s a fucking vampire, I swear.) (I could ask him to stop, but why would I? It feels amazing.)

“What are you doing?” he asks, once I’ve removed my hands from the back pockets of his jeans and moved them to the front, trying (and failing) to unbutton them.

“Wanna touch you too,” I say, basically begging (I sound like a child.)

With a little bit of his help I _finally_ have him in my hand; he’s already so slick with precome, he starts moaning against my neck once I start moving fast.

“Fucking hell,” he says (at least I’m not the only one being loud now.)

**Baz**

People are coming in and out of the bathroom, and they’re obviously aware of what we’re doing (we’re not being specially quiet) but we just laugh it off, not caring enough to stop.

(We’re being uncharacteristically silly tonight; our sexual encounters usually lead more on the angry and antagonistic side than the fun and careless one. Not that I’m complaining; I love him like this: smiley, and sweaty, and cute. It’s fucking hot.)

"Isn't turning you on that people can hear us?" he asks. "I feel like we're in a porno or something."

I snort at that (unfortunately). "Could you try to not say weird shit while we're having sex?"

He giggles ( _fucking giggles_ ) and kisses me; it's sloppy, the angle is odd, and our movements are not particularly coordinated, but soon enough I have Simon stupidity babbling against my mouth, and I know he won't last much longer.

" _Baz_ ," he sighs, as I use my free hand to pinch his nipple. "I'm gonna- _fuck,_ I'm gonna come."

I bring my mouth to his ear so I can whisper in it. " _Then come_."

He does as I say; he hides his face on my neck, and with a few more tugs his whole body is shaking and he's coming all over my hand, probably making a mess of both our jeans. 

"Fucking hell, Baz," he says once he's recovered enough to form coherent sentences again. "That was amazing."

A pathetic whimper leaves my mouth when he lets go of my dick in order to tuck himself in his pants and trousers again; and for an irrational second I think he's going to leave me like this (I say _irrational_ because I _know_ he would never do that to me - or to anyone) but he's suddenly pushing me against the opposite wall, and before I have time to process what's happening, he's already on his knees.

"Snow, _fuck,_ " I curse when he immediately puts his mouth on me. "This floor is disgusting, you're gonna ruin your jeans."

" _Don't care,_ " he says; sounding funny because he hasn't bothered getting my dick out of his mouth. (Always _talking with his mouth full._ ) " _Wanna suck you off._ "

**Simon**

Baz is right; this floor is a mess. I don’t want to think about what kind of fluids my legs are touching right now. (It’s my fault though; I should clean it from time to time.)

But it’s worth it just to see him like this; eyes closed, hand in my hair, beautifully moaning. He’s usually so standoffish and put together, I love to see him lose control like this.

I could do this for hours, really; but my knees are starting to hurt, and he’s close anyways; so I relax my throat so I can fit him more deeply, and I do that thing with my tongue that I know drives him mad.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he groans. “Yeah, like that; just like that. _So good_.”

His praise makes me moan around him (if I didn’t just come a few minutes ago I’d probably be hard again) and that’s all he needs to get over the edge. “ _Simon, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-_ ” he tries to warn me, but it’s already too late (not that I’d wanted it any other way) and comes in my mouth, repeating my name like a mantra. (He only calls me Simon when I make him come.)

“Thank you,” he says, still a bit out of it. 

I laugh, standing up and helping him into his jeans again. “You’re very welcomed, darling.”

He blushes when he realises what he’s just said, and it’s so cute and precious that I can’t help but laugh and kiss him on the (very pink) cheek. 

**Baz**

I can’t believe I just thanked him _for making me come._ (It was a very good orgasm, but _for fuck’s sake_.)

(I can’t believe he just innocently kissed me afterwards, but I’m not going to dwell on it.)

After washing our hands and trying to salvage our jeans (especially Snow's), we get out of the bathroom. Our plan is to quietly go out the back door, so the few people left won't see us and obviously know we were the weirdos having semi-public sex, but Shepard catches us in the last moment, having seen our intentions.

"Are you actually telling me you were the ones fucking on the bathroom?" he sounds like he wants to fist bump us _bro-style_ and scold us at the same time.

"...Maybe," answers Snow, lamely.

"For fuck's sake, Simon," he says, looking behind him before continuing. "I mean, that's fucking dope, dude; but if Mr.Mage ever knows about this he's going to kill you. He's going to _fire_ you and then he's going to murder you."

"I know, I know," says Simon. "Just don't tell him, okay? Please."

"I won't tell him, but next time you're feeling kinky just go fuck to another restroom's pub, okay?" he pats him on the shoulder and leaves before we can say anything else.

We finally leave that hideous pub, deciding to split an Uber home.

(Simon falls asleep on my shoulder the moment we get in the car.) (It's more lovely than it has any right to be.)


	5. i obviously have daddy issues, what's your excuse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _study seasons, (fucking) lamb strikes again, simon are you jealous? and daddy issues. i thought we were past kitchen make out seasons._

**Simon**

“Baz, pass me the tack of yellow post-its, please.”

“Last time I checked you had hands, Snow; use them.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s literally in front of you!”

“Behave, children,” says Penny, passing me the post-its herself.

Baz, Penny, Aggie and I are in the library studying; we meet at least three days a week, something like a study group, sort of. (Baz and I spend more time arguing than studying, that’s for sure.)

Micah used to meet with us, back when he and Penny were still dating. But since they broke up she decided to give Baz his spot, despite my complaints.

Someone from another table nearby shushes us, so we shut up, focusing on our books and notes again.

Until, twenty minutes later, Baz’s phone vibrates a couple of times, breaking my concentration. (Fucking Baz. That’s why I didn’t want him in our study group: he’s always distracting me.)

He unlocks his phone, typing as he announces: “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” I ask, while he’s already collecting his things.

“Not that’s any of your business,” he says, not even looking at me. “But I’m meeting with Lamb.”

“You have another date with Lamb?” I ask, probably too loud. (That same person as before shushes me again.)

“Yes,” he answers. “Have any problem with that, Snow?”

“O-of course not,” I say, my face burning. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. Baz doesn’t usually have second dates, sure; but I was literally there when he agreed to it. 

Why the hell do I care, anyways? 

He says goodbye before leaving, and the girls say it back. (I don’t.) (I don’t know why I’m being so petty about it.)

We’re silent for another five minutes before Aggie says she’s gonna leave too.

“You also have a date?” I ask, more harshly than I intended to. 

“ _Nope_ , but I can see Penny literally dying to say something to you,” she says, standing up. “And I’d like to not be here when you talk about _feelings_.”

She says it like it’s a bad word. (The _F word_ in Agatha’s vocabulary stands for _Feelings._ ) 

“What are you talking about?” I ask, clearly confused. But she leaves without answering me; so I repeat to Penny: “What was she talking about?”

“Simon,” she starts, but then never finishes the sentence.

“What?” I prompt her to continue.

“You realise you’re jealous, right?” she asks, as blunt as ever. (I guess she was trying to be subtle, but didn’t succeed.)

“Jealous about what?” 

“Simon, please.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” I say, and it’s true. “I honestly have no idea what you’re on about.”

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You’re jealous about Baz dating this Lamb guy.”

I frown. “ _What_?”

She sighs. “ _Simon_. You’re so thick sometimes.”

“I’m not fucking jealous,” I say, and I mean it. I don’t know why she would think that. “Why would I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Si; why would you be?” 

She’s starting to piss me off. “Don’t talk to me as if I’m stupid.”

"But you _are_ being stupid!” More shushes. We should probably go; there’s no way I can go back to revising after this. “Can you please admit you have feelings for Baz?”

I have _what_ now?

“I _don’t_ have fucking feelings for Baz,” seriously, what the fuck has gotten into her? “Where is this coming from?”

“Simon, you clearly feel differently for him than you do about your other hookups,” she argues. “You _behave_ differently with him than with other people you have sex with.”

“Of course I behave differently with him,” I admit. “He’s my friend. Well, kind of.”

“And doesn’t that say anything to you?” I can see how she’s losing her patience (I am too, to be honest.) “You’re not friends with anyone else you’ve had hooked up with.”

“Yeah, so? That doesn’t mean anything.”

She rubs her temples, looking exasperated. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but when I’m starting to think the conversation is over, she speaks again: “You used to have a rule about not sleeping with someone more than once.”

Why is she talking in past tense? “And I still go by that rule.”

“Simon, you’ve had sex with Baz a million times,” she points out.

I mean, she’s right; there’s no denying that. But, I don’t know. It's not the same. “He doesn’t count.”

“And have you asked yourself why that might possibly be?”

No, I haven’t. _And I don’t want to_. This thing between Baz and I is supposed to be uncomplicated. And I don’t want to complicate it by asking myself questions I’d probably won’t like the answer to.

But I don’t want to say any of that out loud, so instead I insist: “I’m not jealous, Penny. He’s just convenient, okay? He’s convenient, and fit, and we have chemistry in bed. That’s all.”

“You have chemistry outside of bed too.”

I don’t want to talk about this anymore. _I don’t want to think about this anymore._ “Let’s just go, okay?” 

“Simon-” 

I interrupt her: “Penny. Please.”

She takes pity on me, both of us picking up our things in silence. (I can see people visibly happy at the prospect of us leaving. I don’t blame them.)

We walk home without saying anything else.

**Baz**

When I get home the next morning, I find Snow in the kitchen having breakfast. (An _absurd_ amount of breakfast. How can someone eat this much and not explode is still beyond me.)

“Have you made coffee?” I ask him.

“Good morning to you too,” he says, mouth full, not answering my question. We’re definitely spending too much time together; my sarcasm is starting to rub off on him.

“Good morning,” I say, rolling my eyes. Then I repeat: “Have you made coffee?”

I don’t know why I’m asking; I know that he has. He always makes coffee for everyone. _(I love him._ )

He simply nods, and I go grab a mug, pouring some in.

He doesn’t speak again until I’m sitting in front of him. “Hasn’t Lamb made you breakfast? You spent the night at his place, right?”

He says it so bitterly. Why is he being bitter?

“He was late to class,” I explain. (Not that I own him any explanation.) “So we didn’t have time.”

“He goes to class?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. (Both of them. He tries to raise just one as I do, but he can’t pull it off. He looks like an idiot.) (An adorable idiot). “I thought he graduated already.”

“He’s a PHD student.”

“Of course he is,” he says under his breath.

“What do you mean by that?” I don’t know why he cares about what does or doesn’t do Lamb with his life. 

“Isn’t he too old for you?” he asks out of nowhere.

Why is he being like this? He sounds, I don’t know. Moody. Angry, even.

If I didn’t know any better I’d think he’s-

Wait.

Is he _jealous_?

**Simon**

"What are you talking about?” he says, as I stand up to clean my now empty plate and mug. “You're the one who sometimes sleeps with men who could literally be your father."

"That was only one time!" fucking rounds of _never have I ever_ that get out of hand; they'll never let me live this down. "And I was raised in care homes, I obviously have daddy issues. What's your excuse?"

"Oh my God, he's not that old!” he exclaims, also standing up to clean his mug. “He's only twenty five."

"Only six years older?” for some reason I grab his mug and also clean it once I’m done with mine. “He looks at least ten."

"Still couldn't be my father even if that were the case, you numpty," he points out.

Fuck, he’s right. I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I?

I don’t know what I’m doing, honestly, talking with him about Lamb. I don’t care about _fucking Lamb_. I don’t care what Baz does with him. _I don’t_. (I refuse to seriously consider what Penny accused me of yesterday.) 

I look at him and I thought he would look annoyed, but he actually looks amused. He’s making that face he makes when he’s trying not to smile.

“What?” I ask.

“ _What_?” he asks back.

“I don’t know; you’re making a weird face.”

“That's just my face, Snow,” he says, now fully smiling. (He really looks beautiful when he smiles.)

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“I’m always making fun of you,” he says. He’s standing in front of me now, me between him and the sink. “It’s my favourite thing to do.”

He’s flirting with me, the dickhead. (I don’t know what I’ve said to make him smile like that. I hate how much I like that _I_ made him smile like that.)

I kiss him before I say anything stupid.

**Baz**

Snow kisses me, and I make a very embarrassing sound when his lips connect with mine. (I wasn’t expecting it, okay?)

I kiss him back, once I'm past my initial shock. I thought this was gonna be one of his recurrent _passionate_ and _deep_ kisses (he kisses like he does everything else: boldly, impulsivity and unapologetically), but he's actually being, I don't know… Sweet? Gentle?

He has both hands on my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. (I can't help but to grab his wrists, caressing them too.) He's kissing me so slowly; he's not even involving his tongue.

We never kiss like this. We only kiss when we're having sex, or when we're about to have sex; but this is neither of those situations. There's nothing inherently sexual about this kiss. This is just kissing for the sake of kissing.

_What does this mean?_

"What are you doing?" I whisper, breaking the kiss; but he hasn't let go of my face, so we're still close.

"Kissing you," he says, stating the obvious.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I just felt like it."

He gets back to kissing me before I can add anything. 

**Simon**

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

We've never kissed like this. I've never kissed _anyone_ like this, I think. (I'm making a habit of kissing Baz in ways I've never done before, it seems.) (I can almost hear Penny saying _and have you asked yourself why that might possibly be?_ )

I move one of my hands to his hair, and I make him sigh once I start to nuzzle my nails to his scalp. (He makes me melt when he puts his hand under my t-shirt, gently rubbing the small of my back.)

We're being _so sweet_ , I can't barely stand it. (This isn't the kind of kiss that turns you on, but it's making my heart beat just as fast.)

This is so out of character for both of us; I literally have no idea what the fuck is happening.

For better or worse, Penny interrupts us before I can figure it out.

**Baz**

"Oh my God, am I having a _deja vu_?" appears Bunce suddenly, making us step away from each other. "I thought we were past kitchen make out seasons."

Snow's turned scarlet red, visibly mortified. Why is he so embarrassed? It's not the first time someone has caught us snogging.

(I mean, this is the same man that had sex with me in a public bathroom without any care people might hear us.)

" _Em, yeah_ , - I mean, - _well_ ," he starts babbling like an idiot. "Sorry, I'm just gonna-"

And just like that he storms out of the room.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" I ask once he's gone.

"Fuck me if I know, Basil," says Bunce, opening the fridge. "Fuck me if I know."

She looks like she _knows_ , though.


	6. i want everything with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the greasiest pizza in town, a weird competition of who’s most fucked up, is this a date? and the plot twist of the century. it seems i not only win at being a slut, i also win at being a fucking mess. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of eating disorders (nothing explicit)

**Simon**

"Baz, I'm calling a _pizza emergency._ "

I've had the literal worst day ever today. I was late to class. I had a test that I was completely shit at. Then I was late to work. I fucked up the orders of at least four customers, and I spilled coffee on some guy's lap. Said guy then proceeded to yell at me for three minutes straight. And then, on top of that, came some guy with whom I've recently slept with. And then arrived his girlfriend, with whom I've _also_ recently slept with. It was all very awkward.

I know Penny is busy today, so I called Baz instead. (Which is weird, now that I think about it. We've never talked on the phone before.)

"You're calling a _what_ now?" he asks, and it's just now occurring to me he can't possibly have any idea what I'm talking about.

"Today was bonkers," I explain. "And I have this _thing_ with Penny, we call it a _pizza emergency._ We go to a pizza place called _Ebb's Goats,_ they make the greasiest and greatest pizza in town; it's fantastic. We stuff ourselves silly and talk about our disastrous lives until we feel better."

"And why the hell are you calling me instead of Bunce?"

"She has a date with Shep today."

"And I'm your first choice after her?" 

It's weird that I've thought of him pretty much instantly, now that he says it. (I'm starting to see that I haven't thought this through, like, at all.)

"Yeah," I reply, sincerely. "Somehow you are."

"God, you really must be desperate."

 _I am_ desperate, but he doesn't need to be a dick about it. "Look, do you want to eat a greasy pizza with me or not?"

I'm half convinced he's gonna say no, so I'm actually surprised when he agrees, sighing dramatically: "Okay, Snow; I'll eat a greasy pizza with you."

**Baz**

Snow was right; this is the greasiest, most disgusting looking pizza I’ve ever seen.

This whole place is kinda weird looking, actually. It's small, with only four tables inside. (Ours is the only one occupied right now, unsurprisingly.) I was wondering why on Earth a pizza place would be called _Ebb's Goats,_ but now I get it. There's goats _everywhere_ : the walls are filled with framed pictures of them, as well as the menu, who has goats in between pages without any apparent reason. 

The owner (Ebb herself) is a middle-aged woman with crazy hair and soft eyes; she gives a bear hug to Simon as soon as she sees him (it's cute) and seems to be the only one working here.

I ordered a _Margarita_ (keeping it simple); which looks kinda okay, actually. But Snow ordered some monstrosity called _The Ebb Special_ that appears to have everything you can put to a pizza and some more. Seriously, from what I’m seeing it has, at least: onion, tuna, olives, bacon, both beef and chicken, pineapple (of course Snow is one of _those people_ ), mushrooms, God knows how many types of cheese, and I’m pretty sure the base is covered in tomato _and_ barbecue sauce at the same time.

Absolutely revolting.

“How's your pizza?” he asks, mouth full (of course; I wasn’t expecting anything else.)

“It’s somewhat edible.”

“Do you wanna try mine?” he must see the panic in my eyes, because he starts laughing. “C’mon Baz; just one bite.”

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon! I swear it’s good,” he insists. 

“I don’t think we have the same opinion on what's good and what’s not, Snow.”

He grabs one piece, bringing it to my face. “Don’t be a coward.”

“I’m not a coward,” I say, putting my face as far away from it as I can. “I just have enough common sense to not put this thing in my mouth.”

He smirks, and I know exactly what he’s gonna say before he does. “I’m pretty sure you’ve put worse things in your mouth.”

I roll my eyes. “That was such a cheap joke. And not true, actually. There’s literally nothing worse than this.”

“Baz, please?” he gives me his best puppy eyes. “Do it for me?”

“Why would I do this for you?” (I don’t tell him I’d probably do anything for him.)

“Because I’ve had a bad day, and this would cheer me up. _Please_?”

I hate him. I hate him so fucking much. How am I supposed to say no to him when he’s looking at me like _that_?

“You’re such a fucking nightmare,” I say, opening my mouth and taking a bite before I can think better off it. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks, smiling. (He looks more happy than he has any right to look.) (It’s hurting my heart.)

It’s surprisingly not that bad, honestly. “It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

“Liar!” he accuses me, eating the rest of the piece I’ve just tasted. “You liked it.”

“I absolutely did not.” I say, and then I drink half my glass of water, just to prove my point.

“Whatever you say, mate,” he’s still smiling, and I can’t even look at him. 

It’s like looking directly at the sun; he’s blinding me.

**Simon**

"This only could happen to you, honestly. I mean, what were the chances? Is there anybody in this town you haven't shagged?"

"Hey! I don't think you're one to judge!'

After eating our pizzas (I know Baz liked mine, he isn't fooling me) I convinced him to go grab some drinks at a bar nearby.

(I told him I needed alcohol to get over the horrific day I've had. But, truth be told, it's just that we were having a uncharacteristically argument-free evening together, and I didn't want it to end yet.)

I ordered a beer, he a glass of white wine, and he insisted on paying for it, as well as for our dinner. (" _I_ _have more money than I'll ever deserve, Snow. Let me spend some of it on you,"_ he said once I complained.) (It was very sweet of him, not gonna lie.)

"I think I _can_ judge, considering I've never happened to hook up with both integrants of a couple," he says. "If there's one and only thing you win against me, is at being a slut."

I put a hand on my chest, feigning offense. "I can't believe you just _slut shamed_ me."

"I'm not _slut shaming_ you," he defends himself. "I'm just stating facts."

"You're such a fucking prick," I say, without any bite. I'm actually smiling like an idiot, I don't really know why. 

(But he's smiling too, so it's fine.)

**Baz**

"So, what about you?" he asks after taking a sip of his beer.

"Me?" I say, lamely.

"Yeah, we've only talked about me, and this is supposed to be an exchange of horrific experiences," he explains. "So, what disastrous thing has happened to you recently?"

I drink my wine while I think for a few seconds. "Nothing worth mentioning, I'm afraid."

 _Well, apart from falling in love with you_ I think. _That's pretty tragic if you ask me._

But I can't say that, obviously.

"I don't believe that," he says. "There's no way you're that _perfect_ all the time."

I raise an eyebrow. "You think I'm perfect, Snow?"

"Yeah," he answers, without skipping a beat. 

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It is, kind of."

"How's so?"

"Because there's no way you're _actually_ perfect," he says. "You're just _pretending_ to be perfect. And you can't maintain this false pretence forever. It's gonna crumble down, sooner or later."

This has turned way too deep way too fast. (I didn't know he could be so perceptive.) "Have you been talking to my therapist? You sound like him."

This seems to break the tension a little bit, because he laughs. "See, you must be at least a little bit fucked up if you see a therapist."

"You don't need to be fucked up to see a therapist," I point out. "But, in my case, yeah. I am a little bit fucked up. In more ways than one."

"In which ways?" he asks. He says it like it's not a very personal and intimate question to ask.

I answer him anyways. "My mum died when I was five. My father doesn't exactly approve of me being gay. The only boyfriend I've ever had broke my heart in a thousand million pieces, and I'm so afraid of someone else doing it again that I've become emotionally unavailable. And, I think I might have some kind of problem with food, to be honest. Most days I can pass with only one meal and drinking a lot of coffee."

He doesn't say anything; just looks at me. I think he wasn't expecting me to be this sincere. 

"What about you?" I ask. "Are you fucked up too?"

He lets out a sarcastic little chuckle. "Of course I'm fucked up. My parents surrendered me as soon as I was born, so that wasn't a great start. I grew up in care homes where no one ever cared about me, and foster families that never felt like a real family. I've felt so alone, so _lonely_ , for so long that I don't think I know how to let someone love me, let alone _love them_ properly. And now that you mentioned it, I possibly have a problem with food too. It wasn't a sure thing when I was a kid, so now I tend to overeat, making up for lost time, I guess. Most days it seems to be the only thing that satisfies me."

I blink my eyes a few times.

" _Wao,_ " I end up saying, not very eloquent of me.

"It seems I not only win at being a slut," he says, smiling again. "I also win at being a fucking mess."

That makes me laugh. "I'd say we're equally fucked up, Snow."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"How so?"

"I mean, we're both a fucking mess," he says. "So we match."

I hate how much that warms my heart. "Yeah. We do."

**Simon**

We began a weird competition of who’s most fucked up, sharing our reasons back and forth; but we’re laughing this time, not being so serious. I tell him I’m broke, and that I’ll probably always be. He tells me he always needs to be the smartest person in the room, otherwise he starts to become nervous. I remind him something he’s always telling me: I don’t know how to dress like a proper adult. He admits to be obsessed with his appearance, because deep down he believes that’s the only thing he has to offer. I tell him I don’t really believe I have _anything_ to offer.

He tells me he bites his nails. He’s clearly running out of arguments, but somehow that’s the thing that surprises me the most. “That’s not true. How can you bite your nails and claim to be obsessed with your appearance at the same time?”

“It’s a coping mechanism, Snow,” he explains. “I do it without thinking when I’m stressed; which is, you know, a lot of the time.”

“You’re lying,” I accuse him. “Let me see.”

He gives me his hand and I grab it, inspecting his fingers. It’s true; his nails are a disaster. He laughs when I tell him so. (I like to make him laugh.)

Somehow I’m still holding his hand ten minutes later, the subject having changed.

Has he noticed it?

**Baz**

I don’t fucking know what we’re talking about anymore. I can’t concentrate on anything else besides Simon’s hand pressed against mine.

I can’t believe he hasn’t let go of me yet. (His thumb is tracing along my knuckles and I’m dying.) (Which is so dumb. I’ve had his hands quite literally all over my body, for fuck’s sake.)

Has he noticed it?

**Simon**

“What are you two doing here?”

Penny appears out of nowhere, Shep besides her, holding hands. (Baz lets go of mine the moment he sees her.)

“Oh, hi Penny! hi Shep!” I say, nervously. (I don’t know why I’m nervous; they’re just Penny and Shep.)

Shepard says hi, but Penny repeats: “What are you two doing here?”

(I should've known Penny would bring him here; they make her favourite mojitos.)

“Your friend here made me eat the most atrocious pizza ever, and now I’m trying to forget the traumatic experience drinking wine,” Baz says, as cool as ever. (I roll my eyes, Baz's style.)

“You went to _Ebb’s Goats_?” she asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” I say. “I had a _pizza emergency_ _needed_ day, and I knew you two had a date, so I went with Baz instead.”

She’s looking at me as if I've just grown two heads.

“Well, we’ll be inside, if you want to join us later,” says Shep, oblivious to it all.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, and they leave.

She sends me a text almost immediately.

 **Penny:** _are you and baz on a date?_

I was taking a sip of my drink, and I almost choked on it. What is she talking about?

 **Me:** _what are you talking about?_

 **Me:** _we just went to eat pizza, i already told you_

 **Penny:** _you were holding hands, simon_

Fuck, she’s making me doubt it. Is this a date? Does Baz think this is a date?

I mean, we had dinner together and then went for drinks; those are some pretty standard date plans. And we'll probably have sex once we get home, I'm 99% sure of it. But _Ebb's Goats_ it's not the kind of restaurant you would have a date at; not to mention I usually go with Penny, and those are definitely not dates. 

But she was right: we were holding hands. Does that mean anything?

I lock my phone, leaving Penny on read. I look at Baz, and he's already looking back at me.

(Is this a date?)

“Are you okay?” asks Baz.

“Yeah,” I say, not sounding very convincing. 

“Do you wanna join them?”

“No,” I decide. “Let’s just go home.”

“Okay,” he says, standing up. “Let’s go home.”

**Baz**

We're on my bed, Simon laying down, and his cock is on my mouth.

I can't fit him whole as he does to me (which is ironic, because I'm considerably bigger than him) (but some of us unlucky ones have gag reflexes), so I suck at the crown, my hand covering the rest; my other hand rolling his bollocks.

He tried to teach me how to deep throat once, and it was an utter disaster. He says he doesn't care, though; that not everyone is physically capable of doing it. He says he likes it anyway.

He certainly seems to be liking it now. He has both hands in my hair, fingers running through it; and Penny's not home, so he's not even trying to be quiet (even though everybody else is.)

" _Mhmm, Baz,_ " he moans, and I know he's gonna come soon if I don't stop.

So I stop. _That_ he doesn't seem to like very much.

But I have other plans for tonight; if I gather the courage to ask, that is.

" _Fuck_ , Baz, I was about to come, why did you stop?" he whinnies.

I move up his body until we're face to face. "I don't want you to come yet."

"Why?" he sounds so frustrated; I kinda like it.

_Okay, Basilton, now or never._

"Because I want you to fuck me."

**Simon**

_Have I heard him right?_

"What?"

"I- I want you to fuck me," he says again, stuttering a little. "But we don't have to, if you don't want to."

He thinks I don't want to? I guess he has mistaken my surprise for rejection. But of course I'm staggered; he's never asked for it before.

"I do want to," I assure him. (God, with how close I was already, I swear I almost came just hearing him say it.) "It's just that…"

"Just what?"

"Well, I've never done that. In, _em,_ neither of both possible ways," I confess.

He looks at me like this is the plot twist of the century. " _Really_?"

"Yeah, why do you sound so surprised?"

I mean, I've had penetrative sex with girls, but never with guys. It feels like two completely different things, for some reason. 

"I don't know," he says. "You just seem like the kind of guy who's done everything there's to be done."

Well, fair enough, I guess. "Have _you_ ever done it?"

He blushes a little at that. "Yeah, a couple of times with my ex. But I've only ever, well, you know. _Topped_."

"Oh," God, why is this being so awkward? "And you want to _bottom_ for me?"

"Yeah." he replies. (His face is even more red now.) (It's cute.) "But we don't have to, if you're not into it."

"I am into it," _I am really into it._ "It just never felt right with any of those random guys."

"But you want it with me?" he asks.

"I want everything with you."

**Baz**

He looks pretty surprised, once he realises what he’s just said. 

I must look the same, because he quickly ads. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” I interrupt, even if I don’t. Because I know he probably didn’t mean it the way I want to, and I don’t wanna hear him confirm it.

But _I_ want everything with him. And I’ll let myself believe he wants it too, just for now. 

Just for tonight.

**Simon**

We’ve switched positions; him laying down, and me on top of him. He has a pillow under his lower back, and his legs are open; I’m between them, bottle of lube in hand, and a condom (that I had to go fish from my room) on the nightstand for later.

I cover three of my fingers with lube, and I realise my hands are slightly shaking. I’m terrified, to be honest; even though he’s the one doing the actually scary part.

It must be written all over my face, because he says: “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” he insists. “We can stop if you want.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say. (He’s actually being _nice_ for once; it’s freaking me out a little bit.) “I just don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he says, even though he can’t possibly know that.

I take a deep breath and bring my index finger to his entrance, introducing it until the first knuckle, before I can think better of it.

He exhales and closes his eyes (that’s good, right?), and it’s now occurring to me there’s something I should probably know before keeping on. "Have you ever done this? To yourself I mean." 

"Yeah,” he groans a little when I move my finger a little bit further. “Have you?"

"Yeah,” I say. My whole finger is up him now. (He’s so warm inside; and so fucking tight. How am I supposed to fit my dick in here?)

" _Mhmm,_ that's hot," he says, and I don’t really know if he means my finger up his ass or the thought of my fingers up _my_ ass.

I assume he means the later and say: "Maybe you could fuck me next time, if you behave properly." 

He snorts. "Shut up, you idiot. Could you try to not say stupid shit while we fuck for once?”

“Well, I can try,” I say, laughing too. “I can’t promise anything though.”

“Okay, you weirdo,” he says, clenching a bit around my finger. ( _So hot._ ) “Now start fucking moving it already.”

**Baz**

He was hesitant at first, barley moving, and it was driving me crazy. Then he gained confidence, once he saw I’m completely fine _(more than_ _fine_ ), and now has two fingers working inside me. It's driving me _even more crazy_. (Every time he rubs them against my prostate I feel like I’m gonna die.) (Which is almost every time. For someone claiming not knowing what they're doing he found it pretty quickly.)

I can’t wait any longer. ( _I'm literally gonna explode._ ) "Simon, fuck me. _Now._ "

"One more finger first,” he says, already rubbing my hole with said finger, trying to fit it beside the other two. It makes me moan. ( _It feels so good._ ) “I don't wanna hurt you."

I’m getting impatient, and people say impatience makes me mean. (I usually say impatience makes me _honest,_ instead.) "Don't take offence, but you're not _that_ big. I can take it."

He must really not take any offence, because he laughs. "You're such a twat."

His third finger is halfway inside now, and it’s more of a stretch than two, I gotta admit. It’s a little bit uncomfortable for about five seconds, until he finds _that_ spot again and I whimper pathetically. "Simon, please _. Please_. Don't make me beg."

He smirks with his whole face, the nightmare. "Oh, darling. I think you just did.”

**Simon**

He insisted on riding me, saying it would be easier this way. I obviously didn't have any objections or complaints to his proposal.

So here I am now, sitting with my back resting on the bed frame, Baz on top, straddling me. I'm kissing his neck, and the tip of my dick is already inside of him, and it’s making me a little bit dizzy.

He sinks down a little bit more, and we both let out a moan. _He's so fucking tight_ ; I'm seeing literal stars.

It takes a while, but he's finally fully seated on my lap, not an inch of space between us. He's not moving yet, but he's kissing me with everything he has; and when I bring both my hands to his butt cheeks and squeeze them he clenches around me. It's enough to make my eyes roll back.

"I’m not hurting you, am I?" I ask. I know he made a point of me being fairly average before; but I can only imagine a dick feels very different than a couple of fingers.

"No, it feels good," he says, breathlessly. "I told you you're not that big."

I chuckle. "I've never had any complaints. Until now."

"Oh, I'm not complaining either," he whispers in my ear. “Not at all.”

He starts moving then, slowly; we both make pretty embarrassing noises, but I couldn't care less at this moment. _This feels amazing._

(Does it feel this incredible for him too? I hope so. I wanna make him feel good.) ( _I wanna make him see stars too._ )

“It feels good for you, right?” I ask, kissing his neck. (I know I’m repeating myself; but I just need to be sure.)

“For fuck’s sake, Snow,” he says, moving his head so I have better access to his neck. “It feels good. _It feels great._ Stop fishing for compliments.”

Is this what he thinks I’m doing? “I’m not, you fucking dick. I just need extra confirmation that I’m making you feel good.”

“You do,” he says, swearing when I reach behind his ear with my mouth. “You always do.”

**Baz**

He’s an idiot.

Does he really think this is something less than earth shattering for me?

**Simon**

He’s moving up and down, a little bit faster now, and he’s so unbelievably gorgeous like this. His hair is on his face, and his eyes are closed, and he frowns and opens his mouth every time he finds that spot inside himself that makes him shake all over.

He’s so fucking beautiful, I can’t stop looking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, without thinking. I hide my face in his shoulder, and I kiss and suck on his collarbone, before he can say anything back.

“ _F_ _uck, Simon_ ,” he ends up saying.

I can’t believe he’s never done this before; he’s so fucking good at this. (Of course he is. He’s good at _everything_.)

I'm gonna come embarrassingly fast; I'll last approximately three minutes, at best. (Well, maybe five; but just because I'm wearing a condom.)

I should probably warn him. "I'm not gonna last long."

"It's okay,” he says. “Me neither."

I remove one of my hands from his butt and bring it front to his cock, making a tight grip of it. He’s _so_ hard, and already slick with pre-come. 

“Shit, _Simon_ ,” he swears. “That’s it, so good.”

He’s moving fast now, his thighs colliding hard with mine every time, making a sinful noise. I've half the mind not to grab him by the hips and thrust into him too. I would come in literal seconds if I did.

It might happen anyways, if he keeps on like this. “ _F_ _ucking hell,_ Baz. I’m gonna come now if you don’t slow down.”

He whimpers, and I place my face on his shoulder. “No, don’t come yet.”

“You literally just told me it was okay if I did!"

“I’ve changed my mind, don’t you dare come before I do,” that sounds more like him: bossy, cutting, demanding. _So fucking hot._

“You fucking prick,” I say, bitting his shoulder to make my pont across. “Slow the fuck down then.”

He whimpers, but he does decrease his pace, thankfully. “Not my fault you have the stamina of a teenager.” 

That makes me laugh. What is he talking about? We’re both nineteen. “I’m still literally a teenager. So are you. And it’s _your_ fault you’re so fucking hot.”

**Baz**

He’s gonna be the death of me.

(I'll die with Simon Snow’s dick inside of me; not a bad way to go, in my opinion.)

He’s making me move gently, the bloody menace; still pumping my cock in time with my thrusts. ( _So fucking good._ ) I wonder if he’s releasing this doesn’t feel like fucking. This is sweet, and caring, and intimate. This feels like _making love._

(Does he know I'm making love to him?)

**Simon**

I think he’s about to come now, and he’s trying to delay it. He’s only grinding his hips back and forth, but the friction feels incredible. 

I unpromptedly speed up my jerking on his dick; I need him to finish now if he wants to do it before me.

Thankfully it seems to work. “ _Fuck._ Don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah,” I say, also so close. "Wanna see you come with my dick inside of you.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” he swears again, his voice breaking a little. “It’s so good, Simon. _So good_.”

His cock pulses, he grabs both my arms hard, and then he's coming; making a mess of both our chests, and clenching impossibly tight around me. I tense, coming ten seconds later.

"Fucking hell," I say, still panting. "That was amazing."

His head is resting on my shoulder, his hands still holding on my biceps. He looks totally spent, still a little out of it. I kiss him on the forehead and ask: "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answers, and I now see he's smiling. "Never been better."

**Baz**

I carefully pull out and get off his lap, laying down. I'm expecting him to just leave as he always does; but he surprises me by laying beside me, grabbing me by the shoulders and putting me close to him.

He manhandles me until I'm curled into his side, my head's resting on the crock of his neck. He's running his fingers through my hair, sighing happily; and I'm too astonished I don't even think I'm breathing.

"Is this okay?" he asks; he must have noticed all of my muscles tensing.

"Yeah," I say, putting my arm around his middle, relaxing. "More than okay."

We're in silence for a few minutes until he says: "This was the best sex I've ever had."

(He's being so sweet, so gentle; I feel like crying a little bit.)

"Me too," I say, because of course it was.

I think I must've drifted off a bit because it startles me when I feel him moving. " _Huh?_ "

"Sorry," he says, quietly. He kisses my forehead again. "Go back to sleep."

Is he trying to leave? (He's gonna break my heart if he leaves.)

"Stay," I practically plead, pathetically. "Please don't go."

(I can't bear the thought of him leaving tonight.) 

"You want me to sleep here?" I think he's surprised by it, the idiot.

"Yeah," I say, squeezing him tighter. " _Please_."

"Okay," he simply says, putting the covers on top of us.

We should probably go to the bathroom and clean ourselves before falling asleep, but with Simon next to me, his body heat _so warm_ , that's the least of my concerns.

I sleep better than I've had in months.


	7. the scariest thing that's ever happened to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _panic! at the realisation of feelings, simon can't afford any of that, the stupidest thing penny's ever said, and micah's not following. why am i telling this to the only straight people i know?_

**Simon**

I wake up sticky, warm, well-rested, _and so fucking happy._

It takes me a moment to remember where I am; but then I see Baz peacefully asleep in my arms, both of us still naked, and all of last night's events come back to me.

Last night was… amazing. I meant what I said to him: it was the best sex of my life. It felt so, I don't know. _Right._ It's never felt this right with anyone else before.

He told me to stay afterwards. I tried to leave, because I thought he wouldn't want me here all night, but he actually stopped me. He asked me to _please_ not go, and that made me feel… I don't know how that made me feel. I've never felt anything like this before.

(He _makes me feel things I've never felt before._ )

I look at him, all his long limbs intertwined with mine, his face buried in the space between my neck and my shoulder. His mouth is slightly open, and he's snorting a little. (It's adorable.)

My arm is completely numb from being around him all night, but I don't wanna move. He looks so content, so at _peace_ for once, I don’t wanna disturb him. I like him like this; where I can see him, where I can touch him. Where I know he’s not plotting. _Where I know he’s alright._

And just like that, with him drooling all over my shoulder, it suddenly hits me.

I'm in love with him.

Fucking hell, I’m _actually, really_ in love with him.

I mean, of course I am. Penny’s been trying to tell me, and she’s usually right about things.

But. _Shit._

_I love him._

It scares me to death. 

I didn’t wanna move a minute ago, but now I have the sudden and urgent need to just _run away._

My whole body is trembling a little, and I’m breathing with difficulty. I’m literally panicking.

_I need to get out of here._

I remove my arm from under his head as gently as I’m capable right now. He makes an unintelligible noise and for a moment I think he’s waking up; but he just rolls over and keeps sleeping.

Thank God this man sleeps like the dead.

(This man _I’m in love with._ Now that I’ve figured it out, I can’t stop thinking about it.)

(I’ve never been good at not thinking about Baz, though. So it’s really nothing new.)

I’m out of his room in literal seconds, and it’s not until I’m in my room that I realise I’m still completely naked. (Thankfully no one saw me, for some miracle.)

I really need a shower (I literally still have his dried come all over my chest and stomach) but I don’t wanna risk Baz getting up meanwhile, so I grab the first t-shirt I see on my floor and do what I can with it. (Gross, I know. But I’m desperate.)

I also have class in, like, half an hour; but there’s no way I can concentrate on it right now. 

I need to talk to Penny. 

She’s not home, though. She’s working this morning. 

I’m dressed and out the door before I have time to process what the fuck I’m doing.

(***)

I get to _Miss Possibelf’s_ in record time, and I find Penny and Micah arguing.

 _Fuck._ Not what I need right now.

“I’m just saying,” I hear Penny say from behind the counter. “There’s literally a million other coffee shops you could go to.”

“Well, sue me for liking the coffee here, what do you want me to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know; to suck it up and go to another place, maybe?”

“Penny-”

“No, shut the fuck up. We already have to see each other at home all the time; I’d like not to see you while I’m working too.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, stepping inside. “But I have an emergency.”

“Oh, hi, Si,” says Penny. “I didn’t see you.”

“Dude, are you okay?” asks Micah. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Well, I guess Micah will have to be here for it too.

“I’ve just had _a moment,_ ” I say, frantically. (I know I look and sound like a mad man.) “And I need you to be civil with each other for five minutes and focus on me, please. Because I’m quite literally having a breakdown here.”

“What the hell happened?” asks Penny, concerned.

I have no idea where to begin.

"Baz and I had sex,” for some reason I decide that’s a good part to start on.

"So?” says Penny, unamused. “We been knew."

"Yes, but last night was different,” I explain. “We… we went all the way."

"Oh," she exclaims. _Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?_

"I'm not following," says Micah, looking confused.

"He means they had anal sex for the first time," Penny clears it up.

"Oh," he echoes, awkwardly. “And that’s a big deal, I assume?”

 _Oh my God._ Why am I telling this to the only straight people I know?

“It’s a big deal because we’ve never done that with anyone before,” I explain. “But that’s not important, actually. The important part is that this morning I woke up with him still all over me and I realised I’m in love with him, and now I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve never been more terrified in my fucking life.”

I say it all in one go, without breathing. They both look at me like I’ve lost the plot.

“I mean, I don’t wanna be that person, but… I told you so,” says Penny, not helping at all. _I already know she told me so._

“And I don’t wanna be that person either,” says Micah. “But I thought you were kinda dating already.”

What is he talking about? “You’ve seen both of us with other people before.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to assume,” he says, defensively. “I thought maybe you had an open relationship, how would I know?"

I sigh. “Look, you’re not helping.”

“What do you want us to say?” asks Penny.

“I want you to tell me what to do!” I practically scream. “Should I leave town? Leave the country? Or will moving out be enough? Shit, I can't afford any of that! What am I gonna do?"

“Dude, you’re so fucking dramatic.”

“ _Or_ ,” interjects Penny. “You could just, you know, tell him how you feel.”

I look at her in disbelief. That's the stupidest thing she's ever said. "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

"Yeah, because leaving the country is a much better suggestion."

I ignore her sarcasm. "I _can't_ tell him, Penny. Why would I?"

"What do you have to lose?"

Has she actually lost her mind? "I don't know, my dignity? My intact, not broken heart?"

"Simon,” she starts, in that condescending tone that it’s just _so Penny._ “You can't possibly believe he doesn't feel the same."

Okay, I’ve changed my mind. _That’s_ the stupidest thing she’s ever said. “Of course he doesn’t, have you met him? I’m not sure he even _likes_ me most days.”

“That’s not true, man,” says Micah. “He’s obviously very fond of you.”

“He’s right, Simon,” she agrees. (The first thing they agree on in months and it has to be _this_?) “He’s crazy for you. It's written all over his face."

“Are you two Baz experts now?” I say, pissed off. I know I sound like a child; but I can’t help it.

She exhales. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I have work to do, and your five minutes of Micah and I getting along are over by now.”

“Penny, _please,_ " I basically beg. “I meant it when I said this is the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. Please tell me what to do.”

My voice breaks at the end, and a few traitorous tears stream out of my eyes. Bloody hell, am I really crying about this?

“Oh, Simon,” she says, coming out from behind the counter and hugging me. (Micah gives me a couple of awkward pats on the shoulder.)

“What are you so scared of?” she asks, her arms still around me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Of him not loving me back? Of him _loving_ me back, and then not knowing how to love him properly?”

“Simon,” she starts, but I don’t let her finish.

“What if it all goes to shit like with Aggie and me? _Or worse,_ what if we end up like you two?”

That makes her laugh, weirdly. “You and Agatha weren’t right for each other, that’s why it went to shit. And as long as neither of you breaks up with the other via text like Micah did, and neither of you is a resentful bitch like I am, you’re not gonna end up like us.”

That’s not reassuring, actually. The possibility of me panicking again and dumping him with a text is more likely that I’d like to admit. And he’s definitely a resentful bitch, so. The odds are not in our favour.

But I know Penny’s trying to be comforting, so I don’t say anything.

“Look, sit down, okay?” she says, grabbing me by the elbow and practically forcing me to sit on one of the tables. “I’ll make you tea.”

“Well, this has been fun-” says Micah.

“I’m glad my suffering has been entertaining to you, mate.”

“-But I have to leave,” he keeps on, ignoring my remark. “I have class.”

“Yeah, go,” says Penny. “I can’t stand the sight of you any longer.”

He rolls his eyes at her, says goodbye, and leaves.

"You know," I say once he's closed the door. "He really is a little bit of a dickhead."

She smiles, and I swear I've never seen her look so satisfied. "He is, isn't he?" 

I sit down while I wait for Penny’s tea, hoping it'll make me feel better.

(It doesn't.)


	8. lowkey crying over a cup of coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _crying in the kitchen, tw: miscommunication, a little bit of liquid courage, and a last minute date to put together. he’s someone worth being brave for._

**Baz**

I wake up cold, tacky, a little bit sore, and _alone._

I groan, childly. I realise I’m still undressed. And then I turn around, and realise Simon’s not in the bed with me anymore.

No wonder I’m freezing. 

I whinie for two more seconds until that last thought sinks in. _Simon’s not in the bed with me anymore._

When did that happen?

I look around and I see his clothes still scattered all over my floor. (As well as the condom he used last night. Tied up, thank God. I didn’t even notice when he took it off.)

Did he leave the room completely starkers, the moron?

I look at my phone. It’s almost noon. Well, I’m skipping class today, apparently. (I’ve become too reliant on Snow waking me up every morning.)

He had class today, didn’t he? Maybe that’s why he left. But why didn’t he say anything? _Why didn’t he wake me up?_ (He didn’t even need to come to my room, he was already here.)

I grab my phone again, just to check if he has texted me at least. But he hasn’t.

_He hasn’t._

It hurts more than it should. I knew what I was getting myself into. Did I really think last night could mean to Snow as much as it meant to me?

It meant _everything_ to me. 

But for him it was just sex. The best sex of his life, he said; but only sex nonetheless. 

Fuck, I’m so stupid.

(***)

After a very needed shower, Niall finds me in the kitchen, lowkey crying over a cup of coffee.

God, I’m so fucking pathetic.

“Shouldn't you be at class?” he asks. He hasn’t noticed, thankfully. “Baz, are you crying?”

_Nevermind._

“No,” I say, even if it’s obvious I am.

“Mate, you literally have tears coming out of your eyes,” he sits in front of me. “I think that means you’re crying.”

“Well, maybe I’m crying,” I admit, lamely.

“Why?” 

I think for a few seconds. I end up giving him the least specific answer possible. “Because I’m sad.”

I mean, it’s not a lie

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I gathered that. _Why_ are you sad?”

 _Why am I sad?_ Where do I begin? “Simon and I had sex last night.”

He looks confused. Maybe not the best way to start. “And that… made you sad?”

“No,” I say. “That made me _fucking happy_.”

He looks even more confused. Fuck, I’m not explaining this well. “I’m afraid I don’t get it.”

I sigh, starting over. “Look, I let him fuck me last night. And that was _a moment_ because we’ve never done that before. Not just between us. We’ve never done that with _anyone_ before.”

“And that’s a bad thing because…”

He’s being specially thick on purpose, the little shit. He _knows_ what I feel for him. And he’s not stupid. He knows where this is going. He just wants me to say it out loud.

I sigh again and finally admit it. “Because I’m in love with him, okay? I’m in love with him and last night was perfect. But this morning I woke up and he was gone and it fucking hurt and it made me cry. Because I’m an idiot.”

He has the decency not to look too smug at my confession. “ _Wao_ , slow down there. He slept in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“And he left at some point without saying anything?” 

“Yes,” I say again. “Not even a text.”

“He starts class pretty early, doesn’t he? Maybe he just didn’t want to wake you,” he theorises.

“He left his clothes on my floor. He obviously left in a hurry.”

“Maybe he was late?” he tries again.

“Niall, he tried to leave last night and I stopped him. I practically begged him to stay,” I say. “He must have stayed out of pity or something.”

“Don’t say that-”

I don’t let him finish. “It meant nothing to him, and for a delusional second I thought it did. So that’s why I’m sad and crying. Because I broke my own heart. It was my fault, this time. I expected something from him that I’ve always known I couldn’t have.”

He looks like he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Baz.”

I look away, hoping he won’t stand up and hug me. I’ll start _really_ crying if he doest that.

My phone vibrates and I grab it faster than I’d like to admit.

But it’s not Snow, texting me. It’s Lamb.

“Was that him?” asks Niall.

“No,” I say, not giving more details.

Lamb’s asking me on a date tonight. 

Lamb, who’s smart, and thoughtful, and handsome. He asks me how my day has been, and lends me his coat when I’m cold, and doesn’t run away after spending the night with me.

I realise I’m not only sad, I’m also _angry._

I deserve much more than being used and then left stranded.

I open up his message. I say yes.

**Simon**

I stayed with Penny all morning, skipping all my classes of the day. (I’m gonna regret that so much.) I ended up going to Shep’s flat to shower, because I was starting to gross myself out, but I didn’t wanna get back to mine. Then Mr.Mage called me saying he needed me at the pub for a few hours this afternoon, because one of my coworkers called in sick. I was grateful for it, actually. It gave me something to do.

But nothing could make me forget about Baz today. He’s all I’ve been thinking about since I woke up.

I’m thinking about what Penny and Micah told me, specifically. Now that I’ve calmed down, I see that maybe they were right. Maybe I need to talk to him.

If he doesn’t feel the same, at least I’ll know, and I’ll be able to move on. And if he does, well. We could give it a go, I guess. Even if it still terrifies me. 

I think I’ll regret it all my life if I let this go. If I let _him_ go. 

He’s someone worth being brave for.

(***)

I burst Baz’s door open; with so much force I fear I’ve broken the handler for one second. (Thankfully I haven’t.)

Maybe those three shots of tequila I drank before leaving _Mummer’s_ were a mistake. (I needed a little bit of liquid courage, okay?)

“Jesus Chris, Snow,” he says, startled. “No need to tear the whole building down.” 

“Sorry,” I say. 

He’s standing in front of his full body mirror, straightening his hair. ( _Shame_. I like it better when it has a little bit of a wave.) (But he doesn’t slick it all back anymore, thankfully. That was truly a crime.)

I realise he’s fully dressed up too. He’s wearing the most obnoxious suit I’ve even seen; nothing like the plain ones he usually wears to class. This one is blue, with a floral pattern. Somehow he pulls it off; he looks stunning in it.

_Where the hell is he going dressed like this?_

“Where are you going?”

“I have a date with Lamb,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like this doesn’t feel like thousand cuts for me. 

“A date?” I ask, dumbly. 

“Yes, that’s what I’ve said,” he confirms. “Are you deaf now?”

Why is he being like this? 

God, I feel so stupid.

“Did you want something, Snow?” he asks after a couple of seconds of me not saying anything.

“ _Emm,_ yeah,” no the best time to tell him I love him, when he’s being so passive-aggressive. So I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “My clothes. I, _emm_ , left them here.”

He looks at me through the mirror like I’m just a waste of space. “I noticed it, Snow. I put them back to your room. If you’re gonna make a mess of everything, at least leave my room out of it.”

What the hell has gotten into him? He hasn’t been this snappy with me in a long time. It’s pissing me off.

It’s making me want to cry again, honestly.

“I have a date tonight too, you know,” I say, pettily. It’s not true, obviously.

“You do?” he says, incredulous. “With who?”

 _Shit._ That’s a very good question. “With, _emm,_ Philippa.”

He makes a weird face I don’t know how to read. “Well, I’ll spend the night at Lamb’s flat, so don’t worry. We won’t bother you.”

I can’t believe I thought he could love me back. Last night was nothing special to him. He wanted to get fuck, and I was there. Nothing else.

“Don’t you have a date to get ready for, Snow?” he says, seeing I’m still on his doorway.

I was about to leave but then I can’t help myself. “Will you let him fuck you, now that you’ve got that out of the way with me?”

He gives me one of his murderous glances. “Maybe I will, yeah.”

The thought of Baz doing that with anyone else, doing that with _Lamb,_ makes me burn with anger. So I leave, closing the door behind me (probably way too hard again) and go to my room before I say anything else. (Or worse - start crying in front of him.)

Fuck, I’m so mad right now. Mad at Baz, for being a colossal prick. And at Penny and Micah, for giving me hope. And at myself, of course, for stupidly falling in love with him. And for believing I could be good enough for someone like _Baz._

I grab my phone and text Philippa.

I have a last minute date to put together.


	9. that was unnecessarily overdramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the saddest looking salad ever, philippa's fantastic boobs, dramatic love confessions and make up sex. i finally have him where i want him._

**Simon**

For some fucking miracle, Philippa was free and willing to go on a date with me tonight.

We meet at the restaurant - some posh vegan place at her choice that I'm just now realising may be _way_ too posh for me. Bloody hell, I don't even know if I can actually afford to eat here.

(My childish outburst is gonna be expensive, I see.)

She’s at the door, waiting for me. She's wearing a red dress and high heels; she looks absolutely beautiful.

(I'm wearing black jeans and a turtleneck. I don't think this is the kind of place you wear jeans at. But it was either that or joggers - I don't own any other kind of bottoms.)

"Hi, Simon," she says once I've reached her, kissing my cheek. 

"Hi," I greet her back. "You look amazing."

" _Aww, thank_ you!" she says, smiling brightly. She says nothing of my outfit, thankfully. 

(God, her boobs _really_ look good in this dress. But I don't wanna be _that guy, so_ I try very hard to keep my gaze at eye level.)

We step inside, a waiter guiding us to our table. And when we get there, I can't believe what I'm seeing.

This has to be a fucking joke. 

I must have done something very wrong in another life, I’m sure of it. That's the only explanation for Baz and Lamb being two tables away from ours. 

**Baz**

Snow and I are looking intensely at each other.

(If looks could kill, we'll both be dead.)

_What the actual fuck are these two doing here?!_

"Basil? Are you alright?"

I break eye contact with Snow and look at Lamb again. (I guess he hasn't seen them, then.) "Yeah, I'm great."

I'm not _great._ I'm the opposite of _great,_ actually.

I’m angry, and sad, and starting to think this was a mistake.

I look out of the corner of my eye and see Snow and Philippa sitting down; him still looking my way, her apparently oblivious to it all.

“Are you ready to order?” Lamb asks. I say yes even though I haven’t read a single word of the menu.

**Simon**

This is a disaster. 

I was right before: I can’t afford 99% of the dishes here. So I ended up ordering the cheapest salad on the menu, and it’s so small and sad looking, I could probably eat seven and still be hungry. 

Philippa’s talking, but I have no idea what the hell she’s saying. I’m too occupied taking glances at Baz's direction; I can’t help it. (Not even Philippa’s boobs can distract me from him.)

Shit, she’s asked me a question. I can guess that by her tone of voice; but I don’t know what she’s said.

“ _Emm,_ ” I say, like an idiot.

She frowns, clearly annoyed. “Are you even listening to me?”

No, I’m not. “Yes, of course I am!”

She doesn’t buy it. “Am I boring you?”

A little bit. “No, of course not! Sorry, I’m just distracted. What were you saying?”

**Baz**

I let Lamb order for me at the end, and it made him way more happy than I expected. 

I’m glad it did though (even if I have no idea what this soup I have in front of me right now has in it); I feel that’s the only thing I’ve gotten right this evening.

He’s been doing most of the talking, and I’d like to say I’ve been doing most of the listening, but I’m not really paying attention to him. I’m more preoccupied with Snow looking at my way every two seconds, as subtle as a fucking rock.

Lamb’s noticed there’s something wrong with me, he’s not stupid. He’s just too polite to say anything.

Fuck, this is a mess.

**Simon**

The moment Philippa’s in the bathroom, and Lamb has gone outside to take a call, Baz is on his feet and coming my way.

I don’t have time to process it when he’s already in front of me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Having a date?” I say, bitterly.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but why here? Are you following me or something?”

I blink a few times. Is he being serious right now? “Of course not. Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It just seems very improbable to me that we’ve ended up at the same restaurant.”

“Look, this was Philippa’s idea,” I say, as if it isn’t obvious I would never choose a place like this on my own.

He must have read my mind because he says: “Can you even afford it here?”

God, he’s such an asshole. Why does he always have to go for the lowest blow?

“That’s not any of your business,” I say, which is as good as admitting I can’t, in fact, afford it.

“Look,” he says, blushing a little. (Maybe he’s realised he’s gone a step too far; but that would be a first.) “Just- just stop staring at me, okay?”

“ _You’re_ the one looking my way all the time!” I accuse him.

“No, I’m not.”

“How do you know I’m staring at you, then?” I say. “Because you’re also staring at me!”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” he says, but doesn’t deny it. “That means _you’re_ also staring at me, you know that, right?”

“Well,” I say, trying to salvage it. “It’s hard not to look at you when you’re wearing _that_.”

I was going for an insult, but I think it came out as a compliment, somehow. (I mean, he _really_ looks good in this suit.)

Now I’m the one probably blushing; so I keep on talking before he can say anything. “Just- just leave, will you? They’re gonna come back and catch us.”

He opens his eyes, like he’s releasing now that’s a possibility. 

“Just pretend you don't know me, okay?” he says, stepping away.

God, I wish it was that easy.

**Baz**

"Sorry about that," says Lamb, coming back literally twenty seconds after me. (Thankfully he didn't run into Philippa on his way back.)

"Don't worry," I say. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," he answers. "It was just my father. Nothing important."

"Oh, okay," I simply say.

We finish our dessert in silence (some kind of vegan tiramisu that's actually really good), and when the waiter comes to ask if we need anything else, he orders one of the most expensive wine bottles on the menu.

"Well, what's the occasion?" I ask, once the waiter has served it to us.

He takes a long sip. "I have something to ask you."

"Something to ask me?" I say, even though I'm afraid I know where this is going.

"I really like you, Basil," he says, straight to the point. "And I think we're good together. I'd love to have a serious and exclusive relationship with you; if that's what you want, of course."

"Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?" I say, just to be sure.

"Yes," he confirms. "Will you be my boyfriend, Basil?"

I open my mouth, as if I'm about to say something; but I don't really know what to say. Do I want this? He's right, we're good together. But it's really a good idea to start seriously dating him when I'm in love with somebody else?

Then I remember Snow doesn't care about me, and I can't keep revolving my life around him. I need to move on. And Lamb can help me forget about him.

I'm about to say yes when suddenly Snow is standing right in front of us, looking absolutely feral.

**Simon**

I know I shouldn't be eavesdropping, but I think I've heard the words "serious" and "exclusive" coming out of Lamb's mouth and I couldn't help myself.

Is he saying what I think he's _saying_?

There's two tables between us, and Philippa's still talking, so it's not easy to understand exactly what they're saying.

"Philippa, shut up a moment, please," I say, interrupting whatever she was saying. (I know I'm being a dick to her, but I need to know what's going on.)

"What's wrong?" she asks, but finally shuts up once I've shushed her.

"Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?" I hear Baz say, now much more clearly. (I'm already raging inside.)

"Yes. Will you be my boyfriend, Basil?"

No fucking way.

Is he really asking Baz to be his boyfriend in front of my (very depressing) salad?!

"Simon, what are you doing?" asks Philippa, but I'm already on my feet, walking to them.

"No, he won't," I say once I'm in front of their table.

Baz looks at me as if I've grown two heads. Everyone is kida looking at me, actually. Except for Philippa, who grabbed her things and literally left before she could see me making a fool of myself. (I can actually feel her blocking my number at this exact moment; I deserve no less.)

Lamb looks annoyed, but apart from that, he doesn’t look alarmed at all. "Excuse me, but who the hell are you?"

That throws me back a little bit. Are you telling me this asshole doesn't even remember me? "I'm Simon Snow. Baz's housemate. We, _emm_ , met one morning."

“Simon-” Baz starts, but Lamb interrupts him.

"And being his housemate gives you the right to answer for him?"

"Well, _no_ , but-"

He raises his voice for the first time in the whole conversation: "Then, if it's not much to ask, could you let Basil make his own choices and leave the fuck out of here, please?"

I wanna punch him. God, I wanna hit him so fucking bad. I’m not proud of that, but I’d probably have done it if a waiter wouldn’t have intervened. 

“Sorry, sirs; is this man bothering you?” Lamb says yes. Baz says nothing. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

"No,” I say, stubbornly. “He won't be your fucking boyfriend, okay?"

“Sir, please,” says the waiter, as calmly as possible. “Don’t make me call security.”

"Snow, what the hell are you doing?" asks Baz, looking confused, and, honestly, very angry.

"He can't be your boyfriend,” I say, unable to let this go. (I sound like a fucking maniac, I’m aware of it.) “He just _can't_."

"And why's that?" asks Lamb, having lost his cool now.

"Because I'm in love with him!” I literally scream; I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. “I'm in love with him and I'm jealous and selfish and a fucking mess; and if he says yes to you I'm literally gonna go insane."

"Oh my God,” says Baz, standing up, and grabbing me by the arm. “You are already fucking insane. Let's- let's just get out of here. I'm so, so sorry Lamb." 

“Are you really gonna leave with him?” he asks, incredulous.

“I’m sorry,” Baz says again, leaving on the table enough money to pay for both our dinners. (Which I’m grateful for. Philippa left and I’m not sure I could pay even for my pathetic salad alone.)

“You’re making a mistake, Basil.”

“Oh, just shut the fuck up, will you?” I say, Baz pushing me away from him.

“Just to be clear,” says the waiter, looking as if this happened everyday. “Calling security won’t be necessary, right?”

“No,” quickly says Baz. “We’re leaving.”

**Baz**

I get Simon out of there with the little dignity left in both of us. 

I make him walk a few blocks, turning the corner to an alley when I consider we’re far enough from the restaurant. 

(I was gonna wait until we were home; but I can’t wait that long to confront him.)

I pin him against the wall. "Well, that was unnecessarily overdramatic. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry,” he says, looking distressed. “ _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking stupid."

He looks like a scared cat; eyes wide open, shoulders tense. It’s like he’s just now realising what he has done. Like he was on a trance, or something.

I need to know if what he said it’s true.

"Did you mean it?" I almost whisper.

"Mean what?"

I take a deep breath. I’ll have to be more specific, I see. "Simon, are you in love with me?"

He seems surprised I’ve asked; as if he just hasn’t announced it to the whole restaurant five minutes ago.

"Yeah,” he finally says. “I didn’t even know it until this morning, but yeah. I meant it. I'm in love with you. And now you know. _F_ _uck_."

He’s suddenly crying like the world is ending; breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating, his whole face wet in mere seconds.

Not how I’ve imagined this moment in my mind, to be honest.

"Simon, _Jesus,_ calm down,” I say, taking his face in my hands, trying to get rid of the tears on his cheeks with my thumbs. “Why are you so upset?"

"Because you don't love me back."

He sounds so broken, so defeated. It’s breaking my heart. It’s making me cry a little bit too, actually.

Does he really think that?

"You fucking nightmare,” I say, hugging him to my chest. “You literal numpty. Do you really think I don't love you back?"

He looks up at me, eyes all red. "Do you?"

"Of course I fucking do,” I admit. “I've been in love with you for a long time. I thought it was gonna kill me."

"Then why were you so mean to me earlier?" he asks, hugging me back now; his hands around my middle, pressing his body hard against mine.

"Because you weren't there when I woke up and I thought that meant you didn't care about me."

"I- I left because I panicked,” he explains, still crying a little bit. “I was scared and I ran away, but then I talked to Penny and I thought about it; and I decided I had to face my feelings for you. So when I went to your room while you were getting ready, I was actually coming to tell you I love you. But that didn't go acord to plan, obviously."

Are you telling me this moron came running to my room to tell me he loves me after not even twelve hours of realising it?

What a courageous fuck. I love him so fucking much.

And in turn I was horrible to him. "God, I'm sorry. I was such a dick to you. I was just really upset."

"It's fine,” he says against my neck. “I shouldn't have left without saying anything. And I was a dick back to you too. I didn't even have a date planned with Philippa; I made it out on the spot."

I laugh, kissing his forehead. "And I only said yes to Lamb when he asked me because I was mad at you. Fuck, we're so stupid."

"That we are,” he agrees, letting go a little bit of me so we’re face to face again. “So, just to be clear; you're not gonna be Lamb's boyfriend then, are you?"

I laugh again; as if I’m thinking about Lamb right now. (He probably deserves an explanation, and I’m gonna give it to him; but that's the last thing on my mind.)

"Of course not, you silly. I'd prefer to be your boyfriend, if I hadn't made that obvious."

"Are we really doing this, then?” he asks, looking kinda scared again. “Are we boyfriends now?"

"I- I'd really like that, yeah,” I say, lamely; as if it wasn't everything I've even wanted.

He smiles for a second, but then comes back to his original look. "I was a terrible boyfriend to Agatha, you know. But I'll try to be a better boyfriend to you."

"As long as you don't cheat on me, it'll already be an improvement."

I said it as a joke, but it seems I’ve made it worse. "Oh my God, what if I cheat on you?"

"You won't,” I say. “And if you do, I'll literally murder you. So you won't have time to feel guilty."

"I'm serious, Baz,” he says, even though this time I wasn’t exactly joking. “I've never been in love before. What if I just don't know how to be someone's boyfriend?"

He looks so distressed. Am I pressuring him into a relationship with me? 

"Simon, do you really want this? We don't have to, if you don't want it."

"Of course I want this,” he assures me. “ _I want you._ But I'm scared I'm gonna fuck it all up."

"Well, we'll just have to trust you won't. I'm also scared, actually,” I confess. “But we just have to trust each other, and ourselves. Let's give this a try, Simon. Let's give _us_ a try."

He takes a deep breath. "Yeah, okay,” he says, really smiling now. “I love you. Let's do this."

I kiss him then, because I can’t do anything else when he’s looking at me _like that_ while saying he loves me. 

We’ve kissed a hundred times before; but this actually feels different. It used to hurt, doing this with him and thinking it would never mean the same for him than it does to me. But now that I know _it does,_ now that I know he loves me (God, _he loves me_ ), it feels, I don’t know, hopeful. Like a new beginning: scary but exciting. 

"I love you too," I say, parting ways for a moment so we can breath.

We make out in this dark alley for a while until he says: "Now that we've cleared things out, can we skip to the part when we go home and have make up sex?"

I chuckle. He’s unbelievable. “Okay, love. Let's go home."

**Simon**

Maybe I shouldn't have asked him to fuck me tonight.

Today has already been quite literally a rollercoaster of emotions; having a dick inside of me for the first time on top of everything else maybe is pushing it a little too further.

But I can't even pretend to regret it when I'm laying on my back, my legs open and heels resting on his shoulders; already on the verge of coming from just how good his fingers feel.

It’s obvious he knows what he’s doing; he has me shamelessly moaning and groaning already. I try really hard to not think about how he’s done this before, how this is just a first for me this time.

I try to focus on how it doesn't matter what he has or hasn’t done with other people; he’s mine now. And I’m his.

_I'm his._

He's kissing my inner thighs when he asks: "Can I try something?"

"Whatever you want," I say, and I mean it. He can do whatever he wants to me at this point.

I don't know what I was expecting, but for him to put his tongue alongside his two fingers inside of me wasn't it.

" _Fuck,_ " I curse, taking hold of my throbbing dick in my hand; I swear I was about to die without any friction right now. "Fuck, Baz, that's so good."

He keeps licking and moving inside me, and every time he rubs against the right spot I feel like I'm gonna explode. 

Fucking hell, he's gonna make me finish before it has barely started.

“Baz, you’re gonna make me come already," I warn him, breathlessly.

“Then stop touching yourself, you numpty,” he grabs my wrist with his free hand, forcing me to let go of my cock. I whimper at the loss of contact, but I don't reach back.

“I think, _fuck_ ," he's now mercilessly rubbing my prostate with both fingers and _bloody hell I'm gonna come._ "I- I think I might come anyways.”

“God, that’s so fucking hot," he says, not making any move to stop. "Now I want to see it."

“No, not tonight," I practically beg. "I really want you to fuck me. _Please.”_

He takes pity on me, retracting his fingers a little bit. "Okay, okay. But one more finger first."

"No," I say, stubbornly. " _Now._ "

He laughs, kissing my thigh again. "I think we've already had that same conversation, we've just switched roles."

"Well, then you must know now it comes the part where I tell you you're not that big and that I can take it."

He laughs, because he knows that’s bullshit. He _is_ bigger than me, I have no problem admitting it. But I’m just impatient.

He doesn’t do as I say, of course (I can’t blame him, really; I did the same after all), and adds a third finger, coating it with more lube first. (I don’t think it was necessary, he was already using too much, in my opinion; but I don’t complain.)

When he finally, _finally_ , decides I’m ready, he pulls his fingers out of me carefully and grabs the condom. He’s fidgeting with it, trying unsuccessfully to unwrap it. 

“Do you need help?” I ask, teasing him.

“Shut up,” he says, now having accomplished it, and putting it on. “I’m just nervous, okay?”

“Why?” I ask. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago,” he says. “And I’ve never done this _with you_.”

Knowing he’s also nervous makes me calm down a bit, ironically. He’s right, even if he’s done this before, we’ve never done it _together_. So it feels like a first for him too. 

“How do you want this?” he asks, covering his dick with _even more_ lube. “Do you want to get on top of me, like I did?”

“No,” I say. “I want it like we are; you on top of me. I like you on top of me.”

“Of course you do,” he says, raising one eyebrow. “You pillow princess.”

“Hey!” I complain; and I would be blushing if I wasn’t already red all over. “I’m not such thing!”

I’m not; he knows I’m not, he’s just teasing me. I’m willing to do all the work most days, but I feel safer with his body covering mine, for some reason. Like he’s protecting me.

He laughs but doesn’t say anything else, moving until we’re face to face, my legs wrapped around his lower back. 

He kisses me for a minute, calming both our nerves a little bit, and then he says: “I’m gonna start pushing in, okay?”

I nod and he takes hold of himself, aligning his dick with my entrance and pushing in a little, and _oh my fucking God_. Two overwhelming thoughts occupy my mind right now: One, I’m about to make love with my boyfriend for the first time. _My boyfriend_. That’s fucking crazy. And, two, I could already guess it, but a dick feels _way, way_ bigger and scary than three fingers. 

“I know I joked about you not being that big,” I say, once he finally has the tip inside of me. “But I was lying. You are _that big_. Fucking hell, you feel five times bigger than I rationally know you are right now.”

“We can stop if you want,” he quickly says, not moving.

“No,” I say. “Don’t stop. I want to do this. Just, go slow, please.”

“I will,” he assures me. “You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

“I will,” I also say, taking a deep breath before he starts thrusting in.

It takes a while, but he bottoms out at last. I feel _so full_ , so connected to him right now. I’m so glad I’ve never done this before; there’s no one else I’d want to feel this close with.

“ _Fuck,_ you feel amazing,” he says, sounding so affected already. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I answer. “It burns a little bit; but it feels good. Just give me a minute to adjust to it.”

“Of course, love,” he says. Fuck, I love when he calls me _love_. “Tell me when I can move.”

He kisses me on the lips, but doesn’t dwell on it; he quickly starts kissing my cheek, then my jaw, then my neck. “Relax, love,” he whispers once he’s reached my ear, and I swear I could melt right now.

“I love you,” I say, because it’s true; it’s never been more true than right now, actually. And he’s making me feel so wanted, so _loved_ , that I just can’t not say it.

“I love you too,” he says back, and I regret every single day I've spent not realising that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear from him. (I’ll do whatever it takes for him to say it to me everyday from now on.)

I clench around him, tentatively. He lets out a surprised moan and tenses his hips. (I guess he’s trying very hard not to move before I say he can.)

“I think now comes the part when I tell you I’m gonna come embarrassingly fast,” he says, and it makes me chuckle. 

“That’s fine,” I say; it's not like I'm gonna last long. “You can move now.”

He thrusts almost all the way out and then in again, and all the air leaves my lungs. “ _Fucking hell, Baz_ , go slower.”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, looking distressed. “I thought that was slow.”

“That didn’t feel slow to me,” I say, just now starting to breathe again. 

“Sorry,” he says again, but I kiss him so he knows it's fine.

“You made it look so easy yesterday, how the hell did you do that?” I ask, now remembering how fast he was bouncing over me.

He smirks. “Well, you don’t have a gag reflex, and I take dick easier on the ass; we both have our perks, it seems.”

**Baz**

After a little bit of trial and error, we seem to find a rhythm that works for both of us.

His legs are over my shoulders now, giving me a better angle to reach that spot inside of him. I'm fucking him deep and slow, barely moving my hips; but it feels incredible.

" _Fuck,_ " he gasps; he hasn't said a full coherent sentence in a while now.

He's beautiful like this; shivering beneath me, flushed down to his toes, his dick on a tight grip around his own fist. 

The mere sight of him is driving me insane.

" _Simon,_ " I growl. "I'm close."

"Me too," he pants. " _Don't stop,_ me too."

I don't want to close my eyes, but I can't help it; it feels so good. The heat of his body around my dick, my hands on his thighs, gripping hard. His face of pure bliss that I can still see in my head: mouth slightly open, eyebrows in a frown. 

_It's all too much._

He moves his free hand until it's holding one of mine. " _Darling_. I'm gonna come. Fucking hell, _I love you._ I love you, _I'm gonna come._ "

"Me too," I say, breathlessly, fastening my pace a little bit. " _Me too, me too_."

**Simon**

I don't know if he's telling me he loves me too or that he's gonna come too.

(I hope it's both.)

**Baz**

Simon comes first, spilling all over himself in a loud moan; and he gets so tight around me that I follow him barely ten seconds later.

I ride both of our orgasms until Simon gets too sensitive and tells me to stop. I wonder if I could make him come again if I keep on going; but it's been enough experimentation for today, so I do as he says, saving that thought for another time.

I slowly pull out of him, and he whines when I leave him empty; but he stops complaining once I have him curled around my body, his head on my chest, and my fingers through his hair. 

God, I love him so much. I'm living a charmed life.

**Simon**

I feel like I've died and went to heaven.

I’m completely boneless in Baz’s arms; my brain a puddle of nothingness inside my head. 

“Are you okay?” he asks; I shiver at the feeling of his nails at the back of my neck.

“ _Mhmm,_ ” it’s all I’m capable of answering.

“You didn’t hate that, right?”

That makes me sober up a bit. What is he talking about? “Do I look like I hated it?”

“I- I don’t know,” he says. “You look a little bit out of it, to be honest.”

“That’s because you literally fucked me silly, you idiot,” I say, looking up so he sees I’m smiling.

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’m sorry I hurt you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” I say. I had already forgotten it, honestly. “I’ve never had anything besides my fingers up there before, so I knew it was gonna hurt a little. It felt really good afterwards.”

“Did you like it better than the other way around?”

I think for a few seconds. “I think I liked it the same. We can take turns.”

He snorts at that. “Okay, love. That we’ll do.”

“ _Mhmm_ ,” I murmur again, my eyes closing on his own accord. 

I lose track of time, so I don’t know if seconds or minutes have passed when Baz speaks again. “Don’t fall asleep yet; we need to shower. I’m not sleeping covered in come again.”

“I’m awake,” I say. I couldn’t sound _less_ awake.

“Sure thing,” he laughs, but seems to accept his fate, putting the covers over us.

I was about to fall asleep for real when he speaks again. “You won’t leave this time, will you?”

He sounds so distressed, so worried about it. I hate myself for ever hurting him like that. “Of course I won’t. I’m _never_ leaving again. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” he simply says, kissing my forehead, and finally shutting up.

The last thing that crosses my mind before losing conscience is that with my body wrapped around Baz’s, his heartbeat slowing against my cheek, and his mouth letting out little cute snores, I finally have him where I want him.


	10. epilogue: this is gonna be a good summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _a few months later, intimidating victorian (not gothic) mansions, parental bonding and little demons asking questions. no one is getting married this summer._

**Baz**

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Well, too late, love,” I say, stopping the car. “I’m not driving an hour and a half back.”

Simon is meeting my family for the first time today, and to say he’s nervous is the understatement of the century. 

We’ve been together for a few months now, and I think it’s safe to say we’ve been pretty successful at it.

Well, we were a mess at first, not gonna lie. I think we broke up at least ten times in a month. But we always got back together pretty fast; for one because we didn’t _actually_ want to broke up, it was always because of a dumb argument, Simon randomly getting spooked by commitment or me being a colosal bitch. But also because this household can only (and barely) sustain one ex couple living here, and Penny and Micah had already called dibs on that spot.

But after that insane first thirty days, it started going better for us. Once we learned which buttons to push and which don’t, when to leave the other space, and to meet in the middle when we had a disagreement, things started to settle down. (Also, we're both seeing our respective therapists again, so that was helpful too.)

So passed the trial period, I told my parents about him. They told me they wanted to meet him, unsurprisingly. They even went to the extent to say yes when I asked if he could spend summer break at Pitch Manor, I didn’t even have to insist. And _that_ was surprising, especially coming from my father. I guess he’s finally coming to terms with the fact that I’m never bringing a girl home. (I’m sure that’s all Daphne’s doing.)

“You didn’t tell me you grew up in a fucking Gothic mansion.”

“It’s not Gothic,” I correct. “It’s Victorian.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. It’s insane, mate. Are you part of the royalty or something?”

I snort. He’s so stupid sometimes. “No, we’re not royals, you numpty. We’re just very rich.”

“When you said you had more money than you’ll ever deserve, I guess you meant it literally.”

“Yeah, I did,” I say. “That wasn’t a joke. Can we get out of the car now?”

**Simon**

I haven’t even met his parents yet and I’m already intimidated. Just seeing his house from outside was enough.

I couldn’t stay at the university household during the summer, so coming here with Baz was what felt, I don’t know, _right._ He’s my boyfriend, after all. My very rich and posh boyfriend whose family owns the biggest mansion I’ve ever seen in my fucking life. _Oh God._

For a solid second I consider taking a train back to Watford and spend these three months with the Wellbeloves. Agatha and I might not be together anymore, but her parents still love me. And I don’t think she would mind that much. I’d be on my way there already if it wasn’t for the fact that I’d miss Baz too much if I left.

I just need to be brave. ( _He’s someone worth being brave for._ Now more than ever.) 

So I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and say: “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

**Baz**

Vera opens the door, as expected. She gives me a hug, squeezing tight; and then she gives one to Simon, even if they’ve just literally met. I’m not sure if that calms him a little or shakes him even more, to be honest.

She grabs our bags (Simon, always the gentleman, offers to help her, but she refuses) and disappears upstairs. We step inside, and there they are: my family.

I don’t know what Simon was so afraid of, because they all do exactly as I expected: My father shakes his hand, my stepmother kisses him on the cheek, and my sisters are instantly obsessed with him, asking a million questions.

"So you’re Baz’s boyfriend, then?” asks Acantha. Both twins look at him like he’s a brand new doll.

“Yes, I am.”

“That means they’re in love with each other,” says Mordelia, always the know-it-all. (She’s just like me when I was her age.) “I looked it up.”

Simon blushes a bit at that. It’s adorable. “ _Emm, yeah_. We’re in love.” 

“And are you gonna sleep in Baz’s bed?” asks Ophelia, smirking mischievously, the little demon.

“Don’t be silly,” interjects Mordelia. “They need to be married first before that.”

Ophelia seems to be very interested in that. “That means you’re gonna get married this summer? Mum told me you can’t make babies together, though. What’s the point of getting married if you can’t make babies?”

Simon’s so red I think he’s gonna explode, so I decide to take pity on him and stop this nonsense (even if it was very amusing.) “No one is getting married this summer. And much less having babies, thank you very much. We have enough with you three.”

“Hey!” complaints Mordelia. “I’m not a baby anymore. I’m already nine."

“Why don’t you all go and give Simon a house tour?” propounds Daphne, before the other two can get mad too. 

They get very excited at that, the twins each holding one of Simon’s hands, Mordelia guiding in front of them.

“He’s very nice, Basil,” says Daphne, once they’re too far to hear. “And handsome.”

“Yeah,” I say, my face burning a little. 

“Does he treat you well?” asks my father, and I just realised he hasn’t said anything before now. 

“Yes,” I say, confidently. “He’s very good to me.”

“Then I’m happy for you, son,” he says, patting my shoulder.

It seems like a small gesture, but it means the world to me, truly. I never brought my ex boyfriend home because my father made it very clear to me he didn’t agree with my _chosen lifestyle._ So the fact that he’s changed his opinion enough to say he’s happy for me - I don’t know. It just makes me very emotional, I guess. 

I go save Simon from the little gremlins before I start pathetically crying.

**Simon**

Today has gone surprisingly well.

Baz’s sisters had me occupied for most of the day, so I didn’t see his parents again until dinner. The food was amazing, and Daphne was lovely, and the girls didn’t ask too many awkward questions, so I count that as a win. His father didn’t say much, but that’s okay. I can see he’s trying. He only asked me if I’m still up for the summer job he got me at the coffee shop inside the tennis club they frequent. I said yes, of course. I can’t afford a summer without working, even if Baz tried to convince me of the contrary.

( _“I have enough money to sustain both of us all summer,”_ augmented Baz. “ _Or longer, if you let me. You wouldn’t have to work at coffee shops or pubs ever again, if only you let me,_ ” I know he just wants to help me, but I can’t accept his money. I’d feel like I’m taking advantage of him or something.)

We’re on Baz's bed now, already under the covers. Baz is reading something on his phone, and I’m two seconds away from falling asleep.

“Fucking hell, your sisters destroyed me,” I say, after yawning. “I’m knackered.”

He laughs a little. “Get used to it, they love you already. You’re gonna be his brand new toy all summer.”

I sigh dramatically, but I don’t really mean it. I like kids, I’m good with them. I used to play with the little ones all the time when I was still living in care homes.

He leaves his phone on the nightstand, and turns off the lamp, the room now completely dark. 

He gets on his side, facing me. My arms are around him on his own accord, my head under his chin like it belongs there. He kisses me on the forehead, and I melt.

I can’t believe I used to be scared of this.

We were a disaster at first, there’s no denying that. But now being with Baz feels like the most natural thing in the world.

There’s so many coupley things that I had no idea I would enjoy so much. I love to proudly hold his hand, so everyone knows we belong to each other. I love to sleep next to him every night, and make him breakfast in the morning, and the way he makes me stupidly smile every time he calls me _love._

(I love when we have double dates with Penny and Shep, or even with Niall and Dev, after the latter and I talked things through and made it less awkward between us.)

I even love when he reminds me of how stupid I was for thinking he didn't love me back; as if he had done literally anything to make me believe otherwise, the dickhead.

I just love him so much. It’s all I can think about. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

He gets me out of my head when he asks: “You don’t regret coming here, do you?”

“Of course not,” I quickly say. “I overreacted earlier, as usual. Your family is lovely, Baz. It’s just that, I don’t know. I’ve never had a family, so I always feel weird around them at first.”

He kisses me again, now on the cheek. “Well, I’m your family now.”

I tighten my grip around him, my chest feeling all warm and funny. I don’t think he realises what that means to me. 

I don’t quite know what to say, so I go with: “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, and then, because he maybe realises I’m about to literally cry, he adds out of nowhere: “You know, I have an ensuite here. That means we can fuck in the shower without Bunce screaming at us to get out of the bathroom like a crazy person.”

It works, because it makes me laugh. “Yeah, I don’t regret coming here _at all_.”

He kisses me on the lips then; just a chaste, innocent peck. We’ll have time for more heated kisses tomorrow morning in that very promising shower.

 _This is gonna be a good summer,_ it's the last thing I think before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://nevergonnacallmedarling.tumblr.com/) :)


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